A Horrible Quickness
by Ziva- Zia- Z
Summary: A new alliance with a shared tie to the past. A dynasty's missing jewels. And a hidden family secret come to light with heartbreaking consequences and the first stirrings of familial revolt. Can a former missing princess recover what rightfully belongs to her and keep her sanity, despite the secrets slowly coming to light? 4th in the Fliaanian Royals series.
1. Chapter 1

**A Horrible Quickness**

 **Rifiuto: Non Miriena**

 **Summary:** **A new alliance with a shared tie to the past. A dynasty's missing jewels. And a hidden family secret come to light with heartbreaking consequences and the first stirrings of familial revolt. Can a former missing princess recover what rightfully belongs to her and keep her sanity, despite the secrets slowly coming to light? 4th in the Fliaanian Royals series.**

 **A/N: So, apparently, she had _A Horrible Quickness, Grant Us All_ and _But Only Love_ titled wrong. _Grant Us All_ is actually _But Only Love_ (from what I can figure) and _A Horrible Quickness_ is actually _Grant Us All_ (I'm still trying to figure out how) so bear with me, if you will. It might take me a while. Written: 2006, Found: 2018.-** **Licia**

 _March, 1936_

"We get so few moments like this anymore."

A soft chuckle, followed by a quick kiss. "That's because we rule two countries and are the parents of _eight children_ all under the age of _ten_ , my queen. Our oldest turns seven this October, remember?"

She 'hmmed' softly against his lips, melting against his body, the soft material of her dress bunching under his hands as he pulled her closer, brushing his hips against hers. She laughed, a soft, throaty chuckle, her arms going around his neck as he lifted her lightly off the ground. These stolen kisses and touches were so few and far between lately, that she had forgotten what it was like to be kissed and touched.

Three months into the new year had seen new trade treaties between the Vinkus and Munchkinland, and the possibility of trade with Quadling Country. Fliaan, Elphaba's domain, was thriving, with an influx of new jobs and a growth in higher education, as well as the passing of several bills in regards to healthcare for all and the reproductive rights for women- something Elphaba had insisted on, especially considering she had nearly lost her own life seven months earlier, giving birth to her two youngest children. If she were honest with herself, it was her husband who had brought up the possibility of a bill concerning women's reproductive rights. He'd watched his wife go through the whole process- from labor and childbirth, to near fatal hemorrhaging minutes after the birth of their youngest twins. Trism had determined that no man have to watch his wife bleed to death after giving birth- and that he knew it was all too common, especially in the poorer areas of not only Fliaan but the Vinkus.

"Can we just forget for a few moments that we aren't parents? Just... just for a moment, a few seconds, my king. I just want a few moments where it's just... just us. Like it was during our engagement, and the first year of our marriage, before Faola made her appearance. _Please?_ "

"Sounds like a wonderful plan." He chuckled softly, pulling her closer, hands sliding slowly up her sides; his long, slender fingers trailed over the bodice of her dress, gently caressing her breasts through the fabric. She could feel her heart speed up, and the butterflies erupt in her stomach at his touch, and she captured his mouth with hers, arms sliding around his waist as the kiss deepened.

A knock quickly sounded on the door, but they ignored it. Another knock, and another, followed quickly by a very loud, persistent,

 _"Mama! Daddy!"_

Trism groaned in annoyance as he slowly broke the kiss, forcing himself away from his beloved wife. " _Please_ tell me that _wasn't_ who I think it is?"

"If you mean our oldest daughter, I'm afraid you're right." She released him with a sigh, watching as he made his way to the door of their bedroom. A moment passed before she made her way to the vanity mirror, quickly cleaning up any smudges in her makeup; the last thing they needed was their six-year-old daughter asking questions they weren't ready to answer quite yet.

"Faola, how many times have we-" He stopped, however, at the sight of his mother, standing behind her oldest grandchild. "Mother."

Locasta raised an eyebrow at her son's disheveled appearance, before turning to her granddaughter. She handed the girl a _rukla_ , a kind of Vinkun quarter, with a soft, "You know how Mama and Daddy feel about candy before a meal, Faola." The child nodded, taking the coin with a quick glance at her parents. Then, she turned, bounding down the stairs, headed for the foyer where her siblings were with Cattery, the young maid tasked with looking after the royal children.

"Using our first- _my_ firstborn daughter- against us." Trism shook his head in disgust. "I never would have expected you to sink so low, Mother." He turned and strode back into the room, Locasta following. Elphaba's gaze snapped up in the mirror, and she quickly finished fixing her lipstick before straightening and turning to the dowager.

"I'm a grandmother. What good is being a grandmother if I can't use my grandchildren to my advantage? Besides, I seem to remember both my parents and your father's parents doing the same with you and your brother when you were Faola's age." Trism stopped midway to the window, blushing.

" _What is it_ , Mother?" He slowly turned back to her.

The cut of her black dress accented her figure perfectly; once upon a time, Locasta had been a very beautiful young woman; though time had not stolen that beauty, the death of her husband, her soulmate, in November of twenty-eight seemed to add a weight to her shoulders she could not remove. With Traper's assassination, the throne had gone to Trism, Locasta's youngest son, and the former queen had gratefully stepped down, recognizing that it was time for a new generation to take the Vinkun throne. And Trism, her beloved baby boy, had, at the tender age of twenty-four, had accepted the responsibility, the duty, that came with ruling a country. He had quickly proven that he was much more suited for the crown than his older brother would have been.

"Zor is here. He says he has something for you, Fabala." Locasta turned her gaze to her daughter-in-law, who tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear. The young Fliaanian empress blushed, meeting her mother-in-law's gaze.

"He came all the way to Kiamo Ko just to give me something?"

The dowager queen nodded, holding out a hand to her daughter, who took it. "He said it would be of great importance to you, something special, from the past."

Elphaba glanced at her husband, who allowed the women to leave the room first before following. The three hurried down the stairs in silence; they found the young Governor of the Free State of Munchkinland in the sitting room, being entertained by the four oldest of their eight children. The young man chuckled softly as Faola told him a story, while Havni and Fechín- who was seated on Zor's lap- were showing him their dolls, attempting to talk over their older sister's story. Chiss, their second-born child and firstborn son, their young Crown Prince, was seated next to the young governor, asking him question after question about Munchkinland-

"All right, that's enough you four. Let the governor breathe."

Reluctantly, the four children slid off the sofa; Fechín slid off his lap, her black curls bouncing with the movement. With two months before they turned five, Trism and Elphaba's oldest twins were identical- and a complete surprise, for Elphaba hadn't realized she was having twins until the night they were born, when she'd gone into labor, given birth, and then immediately realized that she had to push again. The discovery that his wife had unknowingly carried and given birth to twin girls had thrown the young king for quite the loop- it had taken _days_ for him to wrap his head around the fact that his beloved wife had given birth to twins, let alone accept that fact that he was the father of two identical newborn princesses. But now, as he watched his girls scamper over to join their siblings near the fireplace, he couldn't help but feel a small flicker of pride in his heart, for the simple fact that they were his.

"Your Majesties." The young governor stood, bowing to the young royals, who quickly nodded in return.

"Zor." A soft smile graced Elphaba's features as she went to the young man, wrapping him in a hug; perhaps the most surprising part of this whole trade alliance was the friendship that had blossomed between the Munchkinland governor and the Fliaanian empress. Especially considering he was the son of the very man who had massacred her family eighteen years earlier. "How have you been? How's Trot doing?"

"She's good. Ojo's sick however, and she wanted to stay home with him, make sure he's okay, so she couldn't come, but she send her regards."

Zor and Trot- who's real name was Mayre- had, like Trism and Elphaba started a family young, though unlike the royals, they had stopped at four. Their oldest son, Tip, as he was called, was the same age as Havni and Fechín; their oldest daughter, Amalina was a month younger than Kio, Trism and Elphaba's second oldest son. Ojo and Zixi were each the same age as Elphaba and Trism's three youngest- Ryn, who was almost two, and Vala and Ruli, their youngest twins, who were only seven months old. The young princes and princesses were the closest playmates the governor's children had, for they were shy around other children and not used to strangers, but they were used to the young king and queen for they saw them most often.

After quickly shaking hands with Trism, Zor turned back Elphaba. The young empress sighed, giving him a quick smile. "You said you had something for me? Something important?"


	2. Chapter 2

**Rifiuto: Non Miriena**

 **A/N: Written: 2006, Found: 2018.-** **Licia**

"Ah yes, I almost forgot."

The governor picked the small, square box he'd brought with him up off the table, holding it out to her. Elphaba looked between the two men before reaching for it. She slowly lifted the lid and then pushed the tissue aside, surprised to find a book staring back at her. Her brow furrowed in confusion as she glanced up at the governor.

"... _this_ is what you brought me, Zor? A book?"

A small smile tugged at his lips. "Not just any book, Elphaba. Go on. Open it."

After a moment, she lifted it out of the box; the hard front and back of the book was covered in emerald green material, with gold edges and four simple numbers on the front of gold.

 _1916_

She looked up at him, even more confused than before. "Open it. Trust me."

Slowly, she did. Small particles of dust wafted up to meet her, and she couldn't help the small smile that tugged at her lips as she laid eyes on the poppy, pressed between the front cover and the first page. Tenderly, she lifted the flower out of the book, holding it against her nose, eyes closing.

Poppies had always been her favorite flower-

Opening her eyes again, she turned to the scrawl on the first page; a young girl's careful cursive stared up at her, and after several seconds, she struggled to make out the name, before gently blowing at the light layer of dust that had collected around the pressed flower, which had hidden the majority of the name. The particles floated away like snowflakes caught in a winter's wind; she turned back to the page, now able to make out what was beneath.

 _Property of_

 _Elphaba Frexparia Thropp_

A shocked gasp escaped her throat, as she suddenly realized why the handwriting looked so familiar. Without a word, she sank onto the sofa, now recognizing her own name, written in cautious, careful cursive. It was the handwriting of a pre-teen girl, who would carefully select every word and thought, every private emotion that would go between the pages. "How could I not have recognized my own handwriting?" She whispered, tears beginning to prick at her eyes. She looked up at Zor, as Trism took a seat beside her, gently rubbing her back. "Where did you find this?"

"Tip found it." Zor replied softly, taking a seat on her other side. "We were going through a box of things my father had left behind, and it was in the bottom. He wanted to know what his grandfather was doing with an old diary from nineteen-sixteen. When I opened it to see who it belonged to," He shrugged. "All I could make out was 'Thropp'. I knew immediately it had to have something to do with you and your family. I didn't know which one it belonged to, but I knew that if I brought it to you, you'd be able to tell me. I didn't know it was yours, Fabala." He whispered, the nickname used by close friends and family falling from his lips. It had taken years for her to warm up to him enough to allow him to use such an intimate name, but eventually, she'd consented. Zor and Trot had become not just allies, but in a way, family.

"Forgive me, Zor, but I fail to understand." Trism whispered as he gently rubbed his wife's back. "I thought we were looking for the Thropp family _jewels_ -"

"I haven't give up on those, Trism, it's just taking me a little longer than I'd hoped. I have a sneaking suspicion my father moved the majority of those out of state or gave them to other people who helped in the 'cause.'"

"You don't understand, my love," Elphaba, whispered, turning to her husband and laying a hand on his knee. "When we were under house arrest, before we left for..." She swallowed the lump in her throat. "for the House of Special Purpose, Mama... she told my brother and sisters and I that... that we had to... to get rid of our diaries, for they told of our... of what we were doing with the jewels and... and our plans to escape-"

 _She held the small book to her chest. "But I don't want to, Mama. Grandmama gave me this diary for my birthday! Please!"_

 _Gently, Melena cradled her daughter's face in her hands. "Oh, Fabala, you can't bring it along-"_

 _"I'll hide it! I'll be very, very careful, please, Mama!"_

 _Elia and Raina looked up from their places by the fireplace; flames licked at the pages, carefully written words blurred as ink began to run and the paper curled in on itself. "Fabala, you can't. It's too dangerous-"_

 _The girl shook her head, holding the book tighter to her chest. "No, Mama, please! What... what if I give it to Cata, before we go? She can keep it safe for me!"_

 _"Elphaba," The teenager turned at her father's stern tone, and Frexpar softened, at the sight of his third child so distressed. "Listen to your mother, please."_

"I begged Mama to let me give it to Cata, but she wouldn't let me. I don't remember how I managed to hide it or where I put it, but it was somewhere in the palace. I gave my other diary- the one from nineteen-eighteen- to Cata, I think." She furrowed a brow in thought. "I burned the others, like Mama told me too." She turned her gaze back to book in her hands. "You have no idea how much this means to me, Zor. Thank you." He reached out, taking her other hand and squeezing gently.

"I know it's not the jewels, Elphaba, but it _is_ a piece of your childhood. I know how much it meant to you-"

Tears slipped down her cheeks, and after a moment, she leaned over, wrapping him in a hug. "Thank you, _so much_."


	3. Chapter 3

**Rifiuto: Non Miriena**

 **A/N: Written: 2006, Found: 2018.-** **Licia**

She curled up in bed that night with her old, childhood diary balanced on her knees, her long black braid pulled over her shoulder. Trism looked up from getting ready for bed, an occasional giggle or sniffle reaching his ears. Once finished, he joined her, slipping beneath the covers and propping himself on his elbow. His blue eyes studied her in silence for several minutes, before he reached out, tugging gently on the end of her braid. "Talk to me, Fabala."

Slowly, she tore her gaze from the pages, tears sliding down her cheeks. His touch tender, Trism gently wiped them away. "It's like I have them back, Tris. Not fully, but... but pieces. A piece of each of them. It's like they're back with me, when I read these entries."

"You know this doesn't make up for-"

"I know, I _know_! It doesn't _actually_ bring them back, and it doesn't make up for their deaths," She replied, closing the book and setting it on her nightstand before getting up. The light blue of her pajamas complemented her black hair and pale skin, and she turned, throwing her hands into the air. "But _can't_ you understand, my king? _Please?_ Can't you understand that that diary is part of my childhood? It holds memories I'd forgotten thanks to your brother, memories I thought I'd never get back." She returned to the bed, climbing onto it, kneeling before him. Her hands folded in front of her, and she pouted softly, a child begging to be allowed one cookie before dinner. "Please, Trism, try to understand. You got to grow up, you got to discover who you were going to be. I didn't. I lost my family, my memory, my home, my country, my _very name_ , all in one night. Don't you understand how much this diary means to me? _Please?_ "

He sighed, reaching for her. She let him tug until she lay on her side, against his chest, tucked beneath his chin. "I do, Fabala, I just... I guess..." He sighed. "I guess I'm just so used to my _wife_ , that... that this girl... it's going to take some time getting used to her. I don't remember much of her. I rarely spent time with her, as a child, after all." He kissed the top of her head, before, "Read a little bit to me."

She looked up at him. "Really?" He nodded. A slow smile spread across her face, and after a moment, she sat up, grabbing the diary off the nightstand and opening it. She carefully flicked through a few pages before stopping. She glanced quickly at her husband, to find him having shifted onto his back, hands folded over his stomach, eyes closed. A moment passed, before she took a soft breath and began. " _'14 March, 1916,_

 _Mama informed us that we need to look our best, for we have company coming to visit. I asked if Grandmama was coming down from the City for another one of her usual visits, but she said that it wasn't Grandmama. Imagine my surprise, when Elia told me that it was the Vinkun royal family, come down so they could talk about marrying me to their oldest son, Fiyero! Of course I have always known that we're betrothed, but to be perfectly honest, a small part of me had hoped that Mama and Papa had forgotten all about it and would let it go.'_ "

She started, turning to her husband; Trism's blue eyes snapped open, and he shifted, propping his head in his hand. "Go on, Fabala."

The young queen bit her lip. "No, that's okay, Tris. Maybe tomorrow." She moved to shut it, but he stopped her.

"Elphaba, I'm not angry at you, if that's what you're thinking." She met his gaze. "Fabala, you were twelve. I don't fault you for what you wrote or did when you were a child. It was nearly twenty years ago. Times have changed, just like people change."

A moment passed, before she nodded and opened the book again, returning to the entry. _"'I would much rather attend lessons or sit with Papa during a meeting with his courtiers than spend time with the boy I'm supposed to one day marry.'"_ She glanced at her husband, feeling him reach out and gently stroke her thigh in reassurance. _"'Mama expects us to be on our best behavior, of which we all will be, except for Nessa. Nessa hates state visits almost as much as I do; they're so boring and proper, sometimes I want to pull my hair out. And usually the people that visit are stuffy old men, come to flatter Mama and Papa in return for something. If I remember right, the King and Queen of the Vinkus have two boys- Fiyero and his younger brother, though I cannot remember his name. I only know that Nessa had developed a crush on him a couple of years ago. She insists that after I marry Fiyero, she will marry his brother, and we'll live in the Vinkus together, so we will never have to be apart.'"_

Tears came to her eyes, quickly blurring the page, and she took a shaky breath, turning to him. Silent, he reached up, gently brushing the tears away. She closed the diary, before curling into his arms, burying her face in his chest. His arms wrapped around her waist, holding her close, fingers stroking up and down her back in a familiar, tender rhythm he had used during the long, agonizing hours of childbirth she had endured over the past eight years. The familiar motion soothed her, and she hiccuped, shifting to rest her cheek against his chest, above his heart. "... Oh, Tris, I miss them all so. I miss them all so, so much."

Her husband didn't say a word, he simply continued to stroke her back.


	4. Chapter 4

**Rifiuto: Non Miriena**

 **A/N: Written: 2006, Found: 2018.-** **Licia**

 _"But your mother said-"_

 _"Please, Cata. I can't burn my diary. I just can't. I have burned all the others, but I can't burn this one. Please. Say you'll take it with you. That you'll protect it and keep it safe. And... and when we finally reach Gillikin or the Vinkus or the City or wherever we're going, I'll get in touch, someway, and you can send it back to me. Please?" Tears slid down the young princess's cheeks, and after a moment, the young maid- not much older than the former princess herself- nodded. With a relieved, grateful sigh, Elphaba pushed the hardbound book with the soft, sapphire blue cover into the maid's arms, before throwing herself into the girl's embrace. "Thank you, Cata. I know it is in safe hands with you. Thank you so much."_

 _The young maid held the girl close; this fourteen-year-old princess she had watched grow up had become like a sister to her, for there were only four years between herself and the young Kauri. Against protocol- even though there was no protocol anymore, for they were no longer royalty, in the eyes of the revolutionaries- she pressed a kiss to the girl's long black hair. "I will await the day I can place it in your hands again, Kauri."_

She looked up as the young empress entered the kitchen, hastily tossing her long, smooth plait over her shoulder. A tiny smile tugged at the cook's lips, as the image of Elphaba as a young girl of fourteen blended with the woman standing in the doorway.

"Cata, is everything all right?" Worry filled the young royal's dark gaze, and after a moment, the cook shook her head.

"Everything's fine, Your Majesty. Just... got lost in a memory."

Elphaba nodded in response, moving past one of the younger scullery maids and going to the stove. She poured a cup of coffee, ignoring the fleeting glances the other members of the kitchen staff threw her. "Cata, Ryn's second birthday is coming up in two weeks, and the Havni and Fechin turn five in May. Would it be horrible of Trism and I to combine their birthdays? Nothing big, just something small; family, a few close friends, all of you. Would that be appropriate?"

The cook stopped kneading her bread and turned to the young woman. "Would the children care if their birthdays were celebrated on the same day, Your Majesty?"

"Havni and Fechin already share a birthday. I don't think it matters to them. But they would have to share their celebration with their little brother-"

"If you don't mind my saying, Your Majesty, but a two-year-old isn't concerned with sharing his birthday as he is with the cake he will get to slide his fingers through. A two-year-old is more concerned and interested in the mess they will make than anything else."

Elphaba nodded; she remembered when Faola had just about face planted into her birthday cake when she turned two. And Chiss... the little boy had clung to them, too weary of the flickering candles to be occupied with the cake Cata had made- but then again, her two oldest were very different children, not just in sex, but in personality. "That's what my husband told me. But when I insisted, he told me to come speak with you; probably more to get me out of his hair than anything."

Cata chuckled. "He is a smart man, His Majesty is. If you don't mind my saying so."

The young queen shook her head, watching as the cook returned to her bread. A moment passed, before Elphaba grabbed her cup and took a seat at the table, the very same table she'd sat at the night she'd asked Cattery and Cata to be the godmothers of her youngest children. Silence settled between them before finally Elphaba spoke. "Cata?" The maid stopped briefly, glancing up at the young woman. "You never told me how you ended up in our household. For as long as I can remember, you'd been with us, but I never knew how." Elphaba studied her nails as she spoke, her gaze eventually moving to rest on the simple gold band of her wedding ring. "Please, Cata, tell me."

The two women locked eyes, and after a moment, the cook lowered hers, returning to the task at hand. "It's a story you don't want to hear, Your Majesty." She whispered, dusting the dough with flour before kneading it more.

"Yes, I do." The whisper was so soft, the cook almost didn't catch it. "Tell me. Please?"

For a moment, the older woman was that tender girl of eighteen, about to be separated from the only family she had ever known-

A sigh escaped her throat, and she hurriedly finished kneading her dough before placing it in the oven to bake. She then fixed a cup of coffee and took a seat beside the young woman; no one else in the royal household would even _think_ of taking a seat beside the young empress, let along dare too. But Cata was different; Cata had watched this young woman grow up; at one time, very briefly, Cata and Elphaba had been of the same social standing. Silence settled between them, as she struggled to find the right words. Finally, with a deep sigh, she turned to the young woman.

"You grew up in an orphanage, yes, Your Majesty?" Elphaba nodded, thinking back on the ten years she'd spent in the care of Madame Morrible in the orphanage in Munchkinland. "My mother also grew up in an orphanage. At sixteen, as I believe, she became pregnant by one of the boys who also lived in the orphanage, and the caretaker was going to cast her out." She stopped, lips thinning as she tried to recall the rest of the story. "At the time, your mother was also expecting your older sister, _Kauri_ Oziandra, yes?"

"Raina was born in nineteen-hundred-two."

"From what I have been able to figure out, someone came to the orphanage, looking for a girl who could work in the kitchens of the Winter Palace. As the caretaker was going to cast my mother out anyway, she offered her. So my mother went to the palace. She worked in the kitchens as a scullery maid, and kept to herself. I was born the same year your sister was born. We are mere weeks apart in age."

"I didn't know that." Elphaba whispered, and Cata nodded.

"My earliest memories are of the royal kitchens. The smells and tastes and noise. And then one day, I... I remember being brought to a room; there were two little girls, one a little older than me and one my age. And seated at this desk, was this woman. She was very regal, very proper, and even at two years of age, I remember thinking that I was in the presence of a goddess, I didn't understand that I was in the presence of the empress." Elphaba smiled softly. "But what entranced me the most, I believe, was her belly. She was very heavily pregnant." Her gaze landed on the young woman beside her. "With you."

Elphaba blushed, embarrassed, though she was unsure why. "So... you grew up at the palace?"

A nod. "I was your sisters' companion until I was old enough to earn my keep. My mother died when I was six, and I suddenly found myself alone. I worked in the kitchens; I rarely saw you or your sisters anymore. But somehow, I became your mother's favorite, the one that waited on her the most, especially when she had your brother. Even as a young child, I remember being sent down to the kitchens in the middle of the night for pinlobble jam and lavender tea." A smile tugged at Elphaba's lips. "Which is why I burst into tears the first night you came downstairs to the kitchens seeking those same things, all those years ago, Your Majesty. It was as though I was looking at your mother." She sighed. "You and your family were the only family I had ever known."


	5. Chapter 5

**Rifiuto: Non Miriena**

 **A/N: Written: 2006, Found: 2018.-** **Licia**

For two hours, Elphaba sat at the table in the kitchen, listening as Cata told her of what had happened to her after they had been separated and the family had been sent away. She'd returned to the north, to where she knew her mother was from, had attempted to find her father, only to discover that he'd died when she was a child, of tuberculosis. She'd attempted to make a life for herself, working in the kitchens of middle or upper class homes, scrimping and saving what she could just to get by. And then she'd heard that one of the children had been found-

"I prayed that it was you, Your Majesty. Out of all the royal children, I knew that you had the strength to survive. You had always been stronger than your siblings, that much was clear." A moment passed, before the older woman reached out, taking Elphaba's hand and squeezing gently. "When you first told me of the horror you'd experienced in that basement- I didn't want to believe it, _couldn't_ believe it. Your family had been so good to me, that for them to suffer such a fate, it was... unimaginable."

"I know that not everyone believes me, Cata." Elphaba whispered. "I know that only their bodies will prove what happened in the basement that night. And until they're found, all anyone has is my word. And that's not good enough." The young woman sipped her coffee in silence, becoming lost in thought.

"The day you and your parents left," Cata sighed, thinking back on that dreary morning. Elphaba had shoved her precious diary into the young maid's arms, making her promise to return it once they were settled in Gillikin, though neither had any idea that the family would never leave Fliaan. "I begged the guards to let me go with you. I told them I was your personal maid, that I would be of use, but they refused. Only the four were allowed," She spoke of their four most trusted servants, who had been with the family to the very end, tears in her voice. "So I contented myself with the knowledge that I would be with your siblings, and that we would soon catch the train and meet you wherever you were going. But two days later-"

 _Heart-wrenching sobs cut through the stillness of the predawn._

 _"No! You can't! You have to let her come with us! She's family! Please!"_

 _"Enough! That is enough, Citizeness Thropp! Enough, you hear me?" The older guard grabbed hold of the youngest princess's shoulders, yanking her from the maid's embrace. He shoved the sobbing former princess into the waiting train car; they'd arrived at the station not an hour earlier; a train sat waiting to take the rest of the family and their four loyal servants to the mansion where the rest of the family resided, while they awaited their fate. But Cata, despite her sixteen years, despite her childhood growing up around the royal children, working in the kitchens, despite her deep connection with them, was not granted permission to come with them._

 _She was to stay behind, with the rest of the household who had stayed after the family was stripped of their status._

 _"Please! You have to let her come with us! Please!"_

 _She struggled against the other guard that held her back, feeling the familiar weight of Elphaba's diary as it dug into her side. In a desperate attempt to join what was left of her family, she struggled to pull free, slipping out of her coat in the process, but it was no use. The guard caught her by the sleeve, digging his nails into her arm to keep her back. "No! You must let me go! I am part of their household, they need me!"_

 _"Be quiet!" The man, having finally lost his temper with the struggling girl, struck her hard across the mouth, before shoving her to the wood of the train platform. She stumbled, landing on her knees, coat hanging off her body, still on only by an arm. A moment passed, as she struggled to get her bearings through the pain in her mouth; he'd split her lower lip and cut up her gums with the ring he wore. She looked up just in time to watch as Nessa rushed to the edge of the train car; Oziandra grabbed her sister's shoulders, holding her back so she wouldn't fall._

 _Tears began to flow down her cheeks in rivers; there was nothing she could do. They would not allow her to come, she had no choice but to stay here. "Nessa-"_

 _The youngest princess's screams cut through her heart like a knife, and she pulled her coat back on, hugging it to her; she could feel Elphaba's diary dig into her side and sniffled._

 _"No! She has to come! She has to! She's family! She's part of our family!" Oziandra held the girl to her chest, struggling to calm her down as Nessa continued to scream. The second oldest princess met her gaze, and the meaning was clear- Thank you, for taking care of my sisters._

 _The maid nodded, bursting into tears as the door to the train car slid shut with a slam and locked, and then the train itself began to pull away, in order to make the four day journey to the mansion. It was those screams that would haunt her for the rest of her life. "No! Cata... Cata!"_

Tears slid down her cheeks, and silently, Elphaba reached up to wipe them away. The young cook caught her hand, squeezing gently. "I had lost the only family I had ever known. I thought I would see you again. I had no way of knowing that you would all be gone forever." She sniffled, studying the young royal before capturing the woman's chin in her hand. "I fail to see how anyone looking at you could deny your royal blood. You look too much like your mother, rest her soul, that anyone who knew her would see the resemblance immediately."

There were some of our former household who met me before I regained my memory, who had been around Mama and knew her well, who had been around me my entire life, and they denied my claim, outright and publicly." Her mind wandered back to Liir Crope, her former Vinkun tutor, who denied her claim to the reporters waiting outside the hotel in Shiz. Gently, Cata reached over, taking the young woman's chin in her hand.

"Just because they say it, doesn't mean it's true, Your Majesty."

Elphaba met her gaze, tears in her eyes, as she thought back on the rumors that had flown over the last several years in regards to her family. "But what if it is true, Cata?"


	6. Chapter 6

**Rifiuto: Non Miriena**

 **A/N: This chapter's dated on Halloween, but I'm posting it a couple days later, sorry about that. Happy Belated Halloween and Blessed Samhain! Written: 2006, Found: 2018.-** **Licia**

 _"Be careful, darlings. Now, do you remember what the candles are for?"_

 _Silence filled the room, before she reached for the long match Melena had struck. "They're used to light the way so that the dead can return home. Right, Papa?"_

 _Frexpar smiled softly as his third daughter. "That's exactly right, Fabala."_

 _"But aren't the dead scary?" Shell asked, curling into Raina's side. "Because they crawl out of their graves-"_

 _"It is not the actual dead, Your Highness. It is more... the spirits of the dead that return home on this night. And they return to spend time with those they have left behind for the spirit world. The dead use the candles to guide them home for the evening." The young maid stopped, biting her lower lip. She knew not to speak unless spoken too, but she'd been so eager to make the young prince understand that she'd gone on anyway. The family turned to look at her, surprised. "I'm sorry, Your Majesty, I didn't mean-"_

 _"It's quite all right, Cata." The maid blushed, and after a moment, Elphaba took the match, turning to the candles before her._

 _"One for Grandfather. Right?" The young princess asked, turning to her father, who nodded. "One for cousin Jellia. One for Aunt Zixia-" She stopped, brow furrowing. "I don't remember who else; there's too many of them." Frexpar chuckled, leaning down to help her._

 _"That's okay, Fabala. Just as long as we light them, that way they can find their way home tonight." He quickly helped her finish lighting the candles, before picking up two and going to the small table situated near the windows of Melena's balcony. Once all the candles were arranged correctly, he allowed the young maid to bring the loaf of black bread and rest it in the center; an offering to the departed, to show that they were welcome._

 _"And now what, Papa?"_

 _He turned to his children, chuckling softly. "And now, it's time for bed."_

 _The children began to whine, begging to stay up later, so that they might witness their ancestors returning, but Frexpar put his foot down. "How will we know if they've returned if we're all sleeping?" Raina asked, crossing her arms over her chest with a pout. Her father smiled softly at her._

 _"You'll know, Raina."_

The lights from the candles flickered softly in the darkness of her boudoir, rivaled only by the light from the fireplace. The black bread Cata had made the day before sat in the center of the small circular table that was being used as an altar, and she sighed, pulling her knees to her chest and resting her head on them. The six main candles sat gathered around the bread, the other candles gathered behind them, creating a wave of light in the darkness.

 _"You'll know."_

Tears slipped down her cheeks, and she reached up, brushing them away, her father's words ringing loud and clear in her head. "I hope it's true, Papa. I really hope it's true." She reached up, grabbing the matches and box and striking one before lighting a smaller, red-waxed candle directly in front of the bread. This small candle was the one that welcomed the deceased, the one that offered up the bread, and welcomed them to partake in the feast within the dining room, for the table had been set so that the dead could partake in a meal surrounded by their loved ones - even though their loved ones would be fast asleep. But this year, Elphaba was determined to stay awake.

"Fabala?" She turned, meeting Trism's gaze as he stood in the doorway of the darkened room. A small twinge of guilt passed through her; her darling husband, the father of her children, her consort, looked absolutely exhausted, for he'd spent half the night trying to get the children to go to bed, so excited were they for the holiday. They had listened to their mother and great-grandmother tell them of the traditions that followed this most sacred of Fliaanian holidays, and wanted to stay up to see their deceased aunts, uncle and grandparents. "Come to bed, my love. It's late."

"I will in a while, Tris."

A soft sigh reached her ears, and soon she felt his strong arms encircle her, pulling her close. She turned to meet his gaze, and he firmly kissed her neck and then her head. "I know, Fabala. I want to see my father as much as you want to see your parents and siblings. But you need to sleep-"

She sighed, resting her forehead to his and taking his hand. "Just... give me a few minutes. I'll be in soon, my love. I promise."

He kissed her once before pulling away and meeting her gaze. "Promise?" She nodded. "Okay." He kissed her again, a little longer this time; she reached up, cradling his chin in her hand before he pulled away. "I love you." She whispered it back, watching as he stood and soon left the room. Once gone, she turned back to the candles, closing her eyes against the tears.

She must have dozed off, because she woke around midnight curled up on the floor, roused, but not sure by what. As she slowly climbed to her feet and rubbed the sleep from her eyes, she heard distant voices, and quickly left her boudoir. Trism was sound asleep, and after slipping out of the room and checking on each of her children, she headed downstairs, thinking maybe the servants were still up, but there was no one downstairs. Silently, she made her way towards the kitchens, only to stop. Laughter, familiar laughter, reached her ears, and she turned back, going towards the dining room. Stopping in the doorway, she felt her chest constrict and heart stop momentarily at the sight before her.

The long, Gillikin oak table she had chosen all those years ago when she and Trism had moved into the small palace had been set with plates and silverware, waiting for a feast that only the dead could enjoy. When she and Trism had put the children to bed earlier, the table had been empty, but now, the thirty or so places she had requested be set out were being used, the chairs filled, with laughter and conversation floating about the table in soft waves, so as not to wake the occupants of the house. Her gaze landed on the young woman at the head, and her breath caught.

 _"Mama."_

The woman looked up, her laughter like sleigh bells at Lurlinemas. Those same eyes Elphaba possessed landed on the young ruler, and she stood, a smile breaking out on her face. "Fabala." All conversation died down or stopped, as every head turned towards the doorway; silently, Melena made her way to her only surviving daughter, holding out a hand. "We were hoping you would come."

 _"We?"_ Her mother nodded, one mahogany curl having escaped her twist; it bounced as she nodded, her dark eyes shimmering in excitement. Elphaba's gaze darted around; Papa sat at the other end of the table, closest to her; Traper, Trism's father, was beside him, a warm smile tugging at the ends of his lips as he laid eyes on his beloved daughter-in-law. Beside him, sat a couple of Elphaba's cousins who had been killed in the revolution; the loyal four were also seated at the table, and there, in the center, sat her sisters and brother- Sophelia and Oziandra on the left, with Nessarose and Shell directly across from them. Her brow furrowed; there was a space between her two younger siblings when there shouldn't have been. _"Mama? Who... who's the extra place for? I only asked for-"_

"Why, it's for you, my silly girl." Melena replied, slipping her arm through her daughter's and pulling her close.

 _"Me?"_ Her mother nodded. _"But I'm not-"_ She stopped, not wanting to offend anyone. Soft laughter greeted her, and after a moment, Frexpar spoke up, climbing to his feet and going to her, kissing her forehead.

"We wanted you to join us, because you've wished for it for so many years, Fabala. It was only fair that you partake in dinner with us tonight."

Slowly, Melena led her daughter to the center of the table; everyone watched silently as the two reigning monarchs- one former, one current- made their way down the table. Family members called out softly to her, reached out to take her hand, told her how wonderful it was to see her again; by the time she took a seat between Nessa and Shell, she was so overwhelmed, she was afraid she'd start sobbing and never be able to stop.

"It's good to be sitting across from you again, Fabala." Raina said, reaching across the table to take her hand. Elia nodded, as Nessa and Shell turned to their older sister. Tears filled Elphaba's gaze as she studied her siblings. "We're together again, even if only for a night."

 _"I miss you. I miss all of you. So, so much."_

Shell reached up, gently catching the tears that trailed down her cheeks. "Don't cry, Fabala. We're always here."

"We'll never leave you." Nessa added, as silence fell about the table. The young empress looked around, drinking in the faces of her family, her beloved siblings, her cousins, aunts, uncles, and most trusted servants; her father-in-law, grandfather, her young cousin Jellia. Everyone she loved was here, at this table with her, as the candles flickered in the darkness. She met Traper's gaze across the table, choking out a sob.

 _"Father... I'm so sorry-"_

Traper stood, making his way to his daughter-in-law. The sight of him walking made her tears flow harder, for the last time she'd seen him, he'd had his legs blown off by a bomb. "It's okay, Fabala." He whispered, kneeling beside her; his face and body were whole, not like the day he died in Locasta's arms, when his stomach had been ripped open and his features torn apart by shrapnel. "I don't blame you. It wasn't your fault, nor was it Trism's."

 _"He blames himself, Father. Even after all these years, he still blames himself. I've told him it's not his fault, that there was nothing he could do-"_

Gently, the former Vinkun king reached up, taking his daughter-in-law's face in his hands. "But he won't listen. My son is a stubborn young man. Always has been. But he's also very lucky, to have you, and the children you've given him."

 _"You know about them?"_ Traper nodded. _"All of them?"_

"Yes, all eight." The king chuckled, shaking his head. "A part of me still can't believe he agreed to that. Trism has always loved children; he acted like a child himself when he got older-"

 _"He still does on occasion."_

"And I know that when you lost your first, he was devastated." Others at the table shared glances, for they had heard of the miscarriage she had suffered; Sophelia- who had been there the day her sister miscarried, the only one of her family there- had informed them not long after it happened.

Elphaba sniffled, thinking of her husband and children sound asleep upstairs. _"He always wanted a big family, and now he has one."_ Traper grinned, brushing the tears from her cheeks. She reminded him so of her husband. Would Trism grow to look more and more like his father as he got older? Would he possess the same gruffness his father had? Would he stop showing his children affection as Traper had to both him and his brother? Elphaba shivered; she never wanted her husband to treat their children the way his father had treated him and his brother. For Trism to lose that beautiful, gentle spirit of his, would break her heart. _"I'm sorry you never got to meet any of your grandchildren, Father."_

The older man shook his head. "It's okay, Fabala. I was there, when they were born, when you brought each of them into this world- I couldn't be prouder of what both you and my son have done, the children you've raised. You're doing a fine job, Fabala. Not just raising my grandchildren, but ruling the Vinkus. Be proud of what you've accomplished, my daughter." He kissed her cheek, pulling her into his arms. She let his embrace envelope her; in life, Traper hadn't been known for displays of affection; he hadn't been like Frexpar, who had openly showed affection to his wife and children when he'd been alive.

 _"He misses you; we all miss you. Mother most of all."_

Traper sighed, thinking of his beloved wife, his Locasta, the woman he'd loved from the moment they'd met as children. "I miss you too. All of you."

When he finally pulled away, Frexpar stood, holding up one of the wine glasses. "A toast. To this... most _sacred_ of Fliaanian holidays; the time when the veil between our worlds disappears for a few hours, and we can return home, to be with those we've left behind," He glanced at his only surviving daughter. "to spend time with those we had not got the chance to meet," He thought of his grandchildren, sound asleep upstairs. "the next generation, who had come long after we had passed on." Elphaba sniffled, hands going instinctively to her womb, as Nessa reached out to gently squeeze her wrist. "And remember that we are always with them, though they may not see us or feel us. We are always there. So on this most sacred of nights, let's give thanks, enjoy the company, and the delicious feast in our honor."

Cries of 'Here, Here!' sounded around the table, and Elphaba turned, to find the plates set out soon laden with foods of every kind- from roasted pheasant and other Fliaanian delicacies to _muskatka_. She knew that the kitchen staff had not made this, any of it, but didn't have the heart to question where it had come from. Eventually, Shell looked up, swallowing the bite of black bread he'd taken. "What's wrong, Fabala? Aren't you hungry?"

She glanced at her younger brother as the table fell silent. _"I... I don't know... that I can..."_

"It's all right, Fabala. You can partake." She turned to her mother, brow furrowing.

 _"But... what about... about Kumbrica, and the olives? All she ate was one, and it cursed her to stay in the underworld for eternity-"_

Melena chuckled softly, not at all surprised that her only surviving child remembered the great legend of the young goddess who had been stolen by Kintar, God of the Dead and the underworld, and who, after days of captivity, had given in to her hunger, and plucked a black, bitter olive from the branch of a black tree in the underworld and eaten it, cursing her to stay as Kintar's wife for all eternity, dooming her from returning to the world and her mother, Aelphaba, for whom the young empress was named. "It's all right. We are not in the underworld, my darling. You can eat."

"You must be starving, chasing after all those children you gave birth too, Fabala." Raina added with a grin. "Whatever possessed you to give birth to eight children-"

"And four of them twins." Taama added, from her place beside her brother. Orin chuckled, sipping his wine. Elphaba shook her head. The last time she'd seen her aunt and uncle, it had been the Lurlinemas before the revolution.

 _"Tris and I... we wanted a big family. He loves our children, and wouldn't change a thing. There are days when I just... I just sit on the back porch and watch him chase after them in the garden. It's like the weight of our rule is off his shoulders for a few hours. He's not a king, he's a father, and he doesn't have to worry about anything except our children."_

"You're lucky, Fabala. That Trism loves you so." Elia replied, as Elphaba slowly began to eat; she took a bite of the pheasant- it melted in her mouth, and she bit back a soft groan of pleasure.

 _"He's so proud to be a father... I think the proudest moment of his life was the moment Faola came into the world."_ She swallowed, thinking of her two oldest. _"And he's been so good about the boys... he knows they suffer from my disease... and he still..."_

"Locasta and I raised him to care about others before himself." Elphaba nodded at her father-in-law. She sat listening to the chatter and conversation, only occasionally adding her input or telling a story, but for the majority of the meal, she kept quiet, just drinking everyone in. They all looked as they had before the revolution had stolen their lives- healthy, alive.

What seemed like hours passed, as Elphaba sat among her lost loved ones, recalling memories of her and her siblings growing up, or listening as one of her cousins explained something that had happened to them long ago- no one dwelled on what had brought about their deaths, nor made any mention of it to her, for they wanted this night to be a memory she could look back on with happiness. Eventually, the meal was finished, and slowly, people stood, wishing Elphaba goodbye with hugs and kisses, and promises that they would always be there, until it was only her family and her father-in-law left at the table with her. She looked around at each of them, tears in her eyes.

 _"I don't want you to go."_ She choked on a sob, feeling the tears slip down her cheeks. Raina reached across the table, taking her hand.

"We're never far away, Fabala. We're always here."

Elphaba shook her head, turning to her parents, who had moved to sit beside her older sisters. Traper leaned back in his chair, sipping the coffee that had been brought out at one point, his blue gaze studying his daughter-in-law intently. _"I wish you had been there, the day Faola was born- Mama, I needed you. I needed you so much... I was so scared..."_ She bit her lip, thinking of her two youngest children. _"And when Ruli and Vala were born... I nearly lost my life-"_

"But you didn't. You weren't meant to join us then, Fabala. Which is why we sent you back." Melena replied, tears in her own eyes.

 _"But I want to be with you-"_

"And leave my son alone, to raise your children, and suffer a broken heart? No. You were not meant to join us then, Fabala, and you're not meant to join us now, not yet. You have so much more life to live, so much joy to bring to my son, that were something to happen to you now, I know he would not survive. Souls rarely change their mates; he survived Nessa's death because he had hope that one of you might have survived. Were he to lose you now, he would never recover. His soul and heart are too entwined with yours; he would die before you were laid within your grave."

"And leave your children orphans, as you were after the revolution." Frexpar added, shaking his head. "No. We couldn't allow that to happen."

Elphaba nodded, knowing Traper was right, but, somewhere in the back of her heart, she longed to be with her family again, and nothing anyone said would take away that longing. It was a craving only death could satisfy, a craving she would have to suffer with for the rest of her life, until her time came. She opened her mouth to speak, when a voice stopped her.

 _"Fabala?"_

Her head snapped to the side, and she swallowed the tears gathering in her throat; Trism stood in the doorway, half-awake, his sandy hair tousled from sleep. His blue eyes drank in the sight of his wife surrounded by her family, until they lit on the one person he'd longed to see since his passing in twenty-eight. _"F... Father?"_

Traper glanced at his daughter-in-law before getting up and making his way towards his son. Tears filled the young king's gaze, and for a moment, he was a boy again. Gently, Traper reached up, cradling his son's neck in his hand, his blue eyes drinking in the young man that stood before him. Without a word, Trism threw his arms around his father, resting his head on Traper's shoulder. The former king held his son close; he'd watched the young man from afar, seen the changes he'd made within the Vinkus, all the good he'd done. "I'm so proud of you, Trism. You've grown into a fine young man, my son." Gently, Traper pressed a kiss to his son's tousled hair.

 _"I'm sorry, Father... I'm so sorry..."_

"Shh, hush, my boy. It's okay. It wasn't your fault; there was nothing you could have done to stop it. I was ready to go. Though I wasn't ready to leave your mother or you, I was ready to step away from the throne. It was time a new generation took control, and the bombing just helped push it along." He son's soft sobs tugged at the former king's heart, and he gently stroked the young man's back, tracing the diamonds as he'd done when Trism was a boy. "You've done so much good for our country and her people. Be proud of all that you've accomplished, Trism. And know that I'm proud of you. I've always been proud of you." He pressed another firm kiss to his son's head, pulling away to meet his gaze. Gently, he brushed the tears from his cheeks, smiling softly at him. "My son. I love you so. I've always loved you."

Traper pulled away then; the clock struck the hour, and slowly, Elphaba's parents and siblings stood from the table. Her brother and sisters each kissed her goodbye, and she clung to them, not wanting them to go. Frexpar and Melena hugged her gently; her father pressed a soft kiss to her head, and Melena held her daughter close. "We'll always be with you, Fabala."

The chiming of the clock awoke her; she bolted upright, finding herself still curled up in her boudoir. The black bread was gone, only crumbs resided on the plate, and the red candle was out; the other candles were also out, leaving only the six still lit. The fireplace was nothing but ash now, and a warm chill wafted through the room. A moment passed, as she stumbled to her feet, making her way out of the room and to their bed. Trism slept soundly; quietly, carefully, so as not to wake him, she slid beneath the covers, feeling him pull her to him in his sleep. She tangled her hand in her husband's, her mind wandering back to the dinner.

"It's not your fault, what happened to Father, my love. He doesn't blame you. He loves you."

Trism sighed in his sleep, tightening his hold on her. "I know, Fabala. How could I not know when he told me so himself?" She pushed herself up, turning to face him. Her mouth opened, but he pulled her into his chest, holding her close. "Go back to sleep, Fabala. After tonight, we both need it."


	7. Chapter 7

**Rifiuto: Non Miriena**

 **A/N: Written: 2006, Found: 2018.-** **Licia**

 _February, 1937_

"Daddy?"

Trism looked up from the proposal he was looking over; Faola stood by his desk, long black hair pulled back in a braid, so similar to her mother's. Her blue eyes studied him in silence for several minutes, and after a moment, he set his pen aside and held out a hand. "What is it, my little pup?"

She went to him, climbing onto his lap. A fire crackled in the fireplace; despite the old stone and the winter weather outside, Kiamo Ko was warm. It was so rare that the family spent time at the Vinkun palace for extended periods of time- their home was Colwen Grounds, the small palace Elphaba's father had had built for her mother after they were married- but there were things that needed the young king and queen's attention, and so they delayed their return home to Fliaan. Their oldest son, Chiss, had been born at Kiamo Ko, and he and Faola were the Crown Prince and Princess of the Vinkus, both the heirs apparent to their parents' throne.

The girl didn't say much; she instead chose to play with her father's hands, twisting his wedding ring back and forth. The emerald diamonds by her eyes sparked in the firelight, and Trism was reminded of the first time he saw her mother, when they were mere children, back before the Fliaanian revolution swept all but one of the royal family away. He watched his oldest daughter, who had turned eight last October, as she pressed her small hand against his. His hand was so much bigger than hers; he slid his fingers through hers, folding them together. The little girl looked up at him with a smile, so similar to her mother's that for the briefest of moments, Trism was taken back to the day he'd first met his wife, all those years ago when they were not much older than their daughter was now. "Is there something you wanted, little pup?" He asked, folding his arms around his oldest daughter and kissing her head.

Faola said nothing for several minutes before, "Do you really have diamonds like Mama?"

Her father raised an eyebrow. "What brought about this question, little one?"

The girl looked up at her father. "Mama and Grandmama were talking in the kitchen. Mama said something about blue diamonds, and that she doesn't want us to have them, but you do. Do you really have blue diamonds like Mama said?"

A moment passed, as her father considered the question, before he gently patted her hip. "Come on, little one, up you go."

"But Daddy-"

"I have something to show you." She slid off his lap, returning to the chair once her father had gotten up. She watched in silence as her father quickly unbuttoned his shirt, blue eyes roving over her father's chest, searching for the diamonds Mama had mentioned. Daddy was tall, and strong, and firm, like a tree. He could lift Mama and spin her around and not get winded at all, that's how strong he was. When Mama was upset, she clung to Daddy, burying her face in his chest and wrapping her arms around him; his firmness kept her grounded, especially in her hardest times. But she saw no diamonds patterned on her father's chest, and furrowed a brow.

"Where are your diamonds, Daddy?" Her father chuckled softly, before turning around and slipping the shirt he wore off his shoulders. The little girl's eyes went wide; diamonds of all sizes moved across her father's back in a swirling pattern, they sparked blue in the light. The small gasp that escaped his daughter's throat was similar to the one that had escaped his wife's throat when she'd first seen them all those years ago, long before Faola had even been considered. "Are they real?"

"They're real, little wolf."

"Trism, have you seen-" The young king looked up, to find his wife standing in the doorway of the study, their older children with her. Her arms crossed over her chest, and she raised an eyebrow. "What are you doing, my king?"

"Mama, it's true! Daddy does have diamonds! See!" The younger children pushed past their mother, hurrying to join their sister.

"Are they real, Daddy?"

"When did you get them?"

"Can I have my own? _Please, Daddy, please?_ "

"All royal Vinkun children receive their diamonds once they reach ten years of age." Trism replied, shifting to his knees so that his children could get a better look at the tattoos on his back. A moment passed, before Elphaba joined him, sliding her hands up his chest. She said nothing, just met his gaze.

"Even the girls, Daddy?" Havni asked, wrapping her arms around her father's neck. Her father chuckled.

"Even the girls." The nearly-six-year-old squealed, turning to her mother.

"Can we, Mama? _Please?_ " Elphaba sighed; Trism knew how she felt about the diamonds. She didn't think it necessary for her children to receive them when they each reached the appropriate age, but she wasn't going to fight them on the matter if they so chose. Just because she was perfectly content with the emerald diamonds _she_ possessed, didn't mean her children had to be. It was to be their choice.

"Perhaps." She replied, meeting her husband's gaze. She slid a hand down his chest, fingers brushing gently against the tip of the diamond that showed above the hem of his pants. He caught her hand, bringing it up to kiss before pulling her closer.

"Where do they go, Daddy?" Chiss asked, small fingers trailing down his father's back, following the pattern.

"They wrap around Daddy's hip and end near his navel, love." Elphaba replied, resting her head against her husband's shoulder.

"Daddy?" Trism turned, shifting until he was sitting on the floor of the study, Elphaba pulled into his lap. Chiss met his father's gaze.

"What is it, my son?" The boy bit his lip before asking,

"Why doesn't Mama have diamonds like Grandmama does? Didn't she want them?" Trism met his wife's gaze, and she huffed in annoyance.


	8. Chapter 8

**Rifiuto: Non Mirena**

 **A/N: Written: 2006, Found: 2018.- Licia**

She sighed, removing the earring and tossing it into the jewelry box on her vanity before getting up and going to the window. The rain that had been falling earlier had turned to snow, turning the world outside the palace white, and after a moment, she moved away from the window. She hated being forced to stay inside; in that respect, she and Nessa were similar- they needed sunshine and fresh air and the earth beneath their feet to escape the caged feeling they suffered from. It had been a normal occurrence for the two youngest girls to go sneaking outside during the winter, to play in the snow while their parents were unaware, their governesses often hurrying to stop them before their parents found out. Oftentimes, it resulted in severe scoldings, of which were worth it for the few precious moments of freedom.

 _And in the House of Special Purpose, you were even more in a cage than the Winter Palace could ever be._

Letting out a growl of annoyance, she lashed out, kicking the foot of the vanity in annoyance before collapsing onto the stool. Being stuck inside reminded her of the days spent in captivity, of the dreaded hours before they were led to the basement, of the minutes that ticked by before the massacre took place...

A moment passed, before she finally stood, grabbing her coat and pulling it on before slipping into her boots and grabbing her gloves. She couldn't stay inside, not any longer, or she'd go mad. Without a word to anyone, she slipped down the stairs and quickly out the servants' quarters, hurrying through the softly falling snow for the back courtyard of the palace.

It was a winter wonderland that greeted her, and after a moment, she relaxed, closing her eyes and allowing the air to revive her tired senses. Laughter soon reached her ears, and her eyes snapped open; she turned, expecting to find her oldest daughter behind her, but instead, she found herself alone within the light storm. "Faolana? Where are you, honey? Faola?"

The snow picked up, and she covered her face, taking a moment to get her bearings back. It was clearly the wind, playing tricks on her mind.

The laughter reached her ears again, and she shook her head, only to jump, her head snapping up as she was pelted with a snowball. She whipped around-

 _"Got you, Fabala!"_ Nessa stood before her, white coat on over the dark blue dress she wore, boots, hat and mittens on, her long black hair tumbling down her back dusted with snowflakes. She giggled, and a moment passed, before Elphaba realized it had been Nessa's laughter she'd been hearing, not her oldest daughter's.

"Nessa?"

 _"What are you going to do about it?"_

 _"Get you back, of course!"_ Nessa landed on her butt in the snow, having been pelted with multiple snowballs, and Elphaba turned to see Raina and Elia hurrying to join her. They were dressed in the same clothes Nessa was in, and a quick glance down told her that she no longer wore the green dress she'd put on that morning, or the dark blue coat she'd pulled on before sneaking out of the palace. She was dressed identically to her sisters.

 _"That's three against one! That's not fair!"_ She turned back as Nessa climbed to her feet, a grin tugging at her features as she knelt down, scooping up a handful of snow.

"No one ever said we had to play fair, Nessa." She replied, throwing the snow in her sister's face. The snowball fight soon turned, becoming the four girls simply gathering up snow and throwing it at each other. Their laughter filled the air; for a few moments, she was a girl again- no rule, no husband, no children weighed on her mind. Soon, however, other voices cut through their laughter, and she turned, expecting to see her husband. Instead, four young men rushed towards them; they were dressed as warmly as the girls were. A moment of panic flashed through her- these were the young guards, instructed to guard her and her family at the House of Special Purpose. She remembered them, had flirted with them on occasion, when her family wasn't around; it had been her flirtation with a young guard named Liir that had caused Melena and Raina to stop talking to her, days before the massacre. Though they'd made amends- deciding it was better to forgive and forget, especially if they were going to start over in Gillikin- it still stung, that her innocent flirtation had been seen as a betrayal by her family.

Before she could say anything, one of the guards rushed to her, catching her up in his arms and pulling her into a dance. She soon felt heat beginning to warm her skin, and looked up to see flashes of a roaring fire pass by her vision. Someone, not far from them, was playing a _garlinka_ \- a traditional Fliaanian folk instrument similar to an accordion- and the music, so light and exciting, was making her head spin. She soon found herself laughing, though, having forgotten the world around her as she partook in the dancing around the fire.

Eventually, she and her partner stopped dancing, and he turned to her, meeting her gaze. It was then that she saw the familiar blue eyes of the Tiggelars, and she stepped back, her breath catching. "You... I _know_ you..."

He reached up, brushing a strand of hair out of her eyes. "I'm so sorry, I never meant for you to get hurt." She shook her head, not understanding. But before she could open her mouth to ask, he leaned down, capturing her mouth in his. The kiss was deep, familiar and yet not. It was a kiss she hadn't tasted for a long time- one she no longer wished to taste.

 _"Fabala!"_ She pulled away, turning to her sisters, who all stood watching horrified, she opened her mouth, but before she could speak, another voice spoke up. "Fabala!" The sound of footsteps pulled her attention away, and she turned, to see someone rushing towards her. Eventually, she realized exactly who it was, as he caught her up in his arms, lifting her gently off the ground.

"Tr... Trism?"

"What are you doing out here?" He demanded gently but firmly as he set her back on her feet and took her face in his hands. She shook her head, looking around, only to find herself alone among the softly falling snow. "Unnamed God, you're cheeks are ice cold. Come on, let's get you inside before you freeze. What were you thinking, Fabala, my love?"

She turned back as he wrapped his arm around her waist, guiding her back into the palace. "I was just... spending time with my sisters."


	9. Chapter 9

**Rifiuto: Non Miriena**

 **A/N: Written: 2006, Found: 2018.- Licia**

Breakfast was quiet; everyone looked up as Elphaba entered, smoothing the skirt of her raspberry-colored dress and tucking a loose strand of black hair into her twist. "Sorry. You didn't have to wait for me."

She slipped into her seat beside her husband, catching his eye as she unfolded her napkin into her lap and reached for her coffee cup. "You feeling all right?"

Their gazes locked, and she set her cup down after taking a sip. "Of course I am. Why do you ask, my king?"

"Because I found you outside, prancing around in the middle of the snowstorm last night. I was half afraid you'd lost your mind or caught your death being out in that weather. What were you thinking, Elphaba?" She narrowed her gaze at him; she didn't appreciate being chided like one of their children. She was a queen, an empress, the most powerful woman in all of Oz, damn it, and yet, here she was, visiting her mother-in-law in the Vinkus, being chastised like a... a _child_ by her husband for spending a little time outside.

"I got tired of being cooped up in the palace." She took a bite of her toast, and her husband snorted softly rolling his eyes as he cut into his omelet.

"Nearly caught your death out there, the way you were running around in that snow. If it wasn't for the color of your coat and your hair, I never would have found you."

She swallowed, the toast beginning to taste like sawdust. "I spent my early formative years under _house arrest_ , _forbidden_ to go outside with my sisters into the grounds of our own _palace_ , and then was spirited off with my parents to an _even more_ stifling form of house arrest, where they painted the windows black and guards followed us _everywhere_ , where we weren't allowed to go outside except for fifteen minutes a day, living with my siblings and my parents and our loyal servants and a handful of guards in an _exceedingly_ cramped house that would become our death chamber. It was my family to two rooms on the top floor, with next to _no_ privacy, and _no_ permission to go outside, lest someone see us through the fence and get back to the supporters of my father. _Forgive me_ if I found being in the palace a little _too_ stifling for my liking, and wanted to spend some time out in the fresh air. I won't do it again." She bit into the toast, and her husband set his knife and fork down, screwing up his mouth in annoyance.

The children shared glances, unsure of what their parents were talking about; Locasta sighed, turning to her grandchildren. "It's all right, my loves. Mama and Daddy just aren't seeing eye to eye this morning. I don't think either one of them got enough _sleep last night_." She turned a pointed glare to her son and daughter-in-law, and the two had the decency to look slightly ashamed. "Finish your breakfast, darlings."

"After breakfast, can we go play outside?" Havni asked, as Fechin finished her milk.

 _"No!"_

 _"Yes!"_

Their parents shared a glance, neither willing to budge on the issue. Faola's blue gaze darted between her parents; being the oldest of the eight, she was exceedingly perceptive to certain things. Perhaps it was because she spent so much time at her parents' sides- being the oldest, the Vinkun Crown Princess, and the next in line for her mother's throne in Fliaan- that she was able to pick up on the small things that spoke of her parents' shifting moods. She knew when her mother was in a 'black sadness'- as Daddy called it- by the way her eyes seemed to dull and she seemed to pull in on herself. She knew when Daddy was in no mood for talking, by the way he buried himself in whatever had landed on his desk and needed his attention as king at the moment. She knew when Mama and Daddy were sweet for each other, because he would often slide his hands down her sides or brush a kiss to her neck when he thought no one was there to witness, and Mama would, in return, often trail her hands along his waist and down, brushing her fingers against the area between his legs; the forbidden area that her brothers also possessed.

It was those moments when Faola would watch her parents in silent fascination, for she was just getting to that stage when most children became curious about their bodies and the bodies of their friends. Though she had a few playmates, the majority of her time was spent with her siblings- not because Elphaba and Trism refused to socialize them, but more _because_ they were royalty- more because other children were intimidated by her status as the oldest child of the Fliaanian empress, the King and Queen of the Vinkus. And she, herself, didn't exactly know how to act around others. It was more a constant fear that they didn't like her for her, but because they _had_ to, because of who her parents were. The only children Faola and her siblings were truly close to were the Governor's children- Tip was fast becoming her best friend, despite the age difference, and it wasn't uncommon for the two children to be spotted together when the Governor and his family were visiting the royals.

Now though, Faola's gaze shifted quickly back and forth between Mama and Daddy, unsure of what to make of whatever was going on between them. Daddy was clearly still upset with Mama about something that had happened the night before, and Mama, for her part, didn't seem to care. She sighed, grabbing her cup and taking a sip, muttering quietly under her breath, "I thought I married a decent man, not one of the guards who kept tabs on me at the House of Special Purpose like I was some criminal, awaiting execution."

The cup slammed onto the table, coffee sloshing onto the tablecloth. _"Really, Elphaba?"_

She met his gaze. _"Why are you so upset, Trism? I didn't go far! I was just outside-"_

 _"In a raging snowstorm! A snowstorm that hasn't let up once since I brought you back inside last night! Elphaba, think! If I hadn't gone out and gotten you when I did, I could have lost you! It's a wonder you haven't gotten sick, being out as long as you were!_ "

"Don't chastise me like I'm one of our children! I'm a grown woman, I can do what I wish-"

"But not at the risk of your _health_ , Fabala." He replied, pushing his plate away and standing. "Yes, you're a grown woman, but you're also _my wife_. You're the _mother_ of _my children_. We're lucky you haven't contracted pneumonia." And without another word, he stormed off, leaving the breakfast table without a backwards glance; the sound of a door slamming echoed through the palace. Elphaba rolled her eyes and tossed her napkin onto the table, standing. She pushed her chair in, before hurrying after him.

"Trism, you're being _ridiculous!_ " Without a word to her children or mother-in-law, she disappeared up the stairs; minutes later, the same door slammed, causing those left at the table to jump. With a glance at her grandmother, Faola asked to be excused, and Locasta nodded. She slipped out of her chair, hurrying out of the room, silently making her way upstairs. If Mama and Daddy weren't going to talk to each other, she'd _make_ them talk.


	10. Chapter 10

**Rifiuto: Non Miriena**

 **A/N: So this chapter ties in the title of the first story- _Bell Tolls Three_. Written: 2006, Found: 2018.- Licia **

"Don't you think you're jumping the broom a _little too fast_ here, my husband?"

Trism looked up at her; stopping his pacing. " _No!_ Fabala, you went outside into a _snowstorm last night!_ When I found you, you'd stripped your coat and gloves off and were prancing around in a circle like you were... dancing around a bonfire or something! _I thought you'd lost your mind_!"

She opened her mouth to speak, but stopped, a blush coloring her cheeks.

"What was I supposed to do? Leave you out there?"

"I was _fine_ , Trism. I wasn't hurt. I didn't hurt anybody-" He waved it away, moving past her and pulling the door open. She grabbed his bicep, tugging gently. "Tris. _Talk_ to me. It's not just my little jaunt outside last night; something else is bothering you. I know it. I can sense it." She reached up, caressing his cheek. "What's wrong, my king?"

He sighed, taking her hand and pressing a kiss to her palm. "A body was pulled from the Nevoka River, back in Fliaan."

She furrowed a brow. "So? Bodies are pulled from the river all the time. Suicides and other such reasons. What makes this one so special?"

A moment passed, before he took a deep breath. "What makes this one so special, is it was bound in chains and shot multiple times. Its skull was partially bashed in, and there's a probability that there is cyanide within its system." Elphaba stopped on her way to the vanity, turning back.

"Ch... chains? Cyanide? Shot?" He nodded.

 _"Mama? What is the matter?"_

 _Melena turned red eyes to her daughters. "Oh, my darlings..." She reached up taking Elphaba's hand of her shoulder into hers and pressing a kiss to it. "We must... pray for Our Blessed Friend."_

 _Sophelia's brow furrowed in confusion. "Why, Mama? What happened?"_

 _Melena held out a letter; her second oldest took it, dark eyes quickly scanning the words. "'... I shall not live long on this earth. To Mother and Father, you must know, that it will not be by the hand of the poor of Fliaan, my own people that shall end my life, but the hand of the nobles, those whom share your blood, that will snuff out my life, just as the light of Fliaan will be snuffed out in two years' time. For ten years, your family shall sit not upon the throne of Fliaan, but lie within the dirt of our blessed Mother Country; in ten years time, should one of your beloved children survive, they will be placed back upon the throne, but only after greed has taken hold of our land Fliaan and near destroyed her.'"_

 _The sisters shared horrified glances. Nessa curled into Elphaba's side, and she wrapped an arm around her younger sister. It was all too horrifying to believe. There was no way what Yackle said would ever come true. Never. The Fliaanian people loved them, loved their family, and Mama and Papa... they were even more beloved by their people than the Vinkun royals were in their homeland._

 _"'If you hear the sound of church bells, then know that Yackle has been killed- murdered at the hand of your blood. And if the bell tolls two, then none of your family, shall live past two years. But if church bell tolls three, know that one of your family may survive, and return to sit upon the throne, to rule the land of Fliaan again. But only one; for your family will be killed at the hands of the Fliaanian people. And I, at the hand of royal blood. I am no longer among the living. Pray, pray, be strong, think of your blessed family.- Yackle'" Raina lowered the letter, meeting Melena's gaze._

 _"What does it mean, Mama?" Nessa asked, fear in her eyes. She burrowed into Elphaba's side, clutching tight to her sister, frightened. The very thought, that the people of Fliaan could turn on them, their royal family, their rulers, was too terrifying, too unimaginable, that it had to be nothing more than a nightmare, written out in worry. It would never happen; Mama was worrying over nothing._

 _Melena took the letter back, folding it carefully. "It means-" She stopped, turning towards the window. A moment passed, before she stood; the girls followed her, gathering at the window. "Church bells..." She covered her mouth with her hand, listening._

 _One... two... three..._

 _A soft flutter of hope lit in her chest, and she sniffled, turning back to her daughters. "Yackle is dead." Slowly, she sank to the floor, the girls hurrying to her. Raina and Elia knelt beside her, wrapping her in their arms, as Elphaba held tight to Nessa, silently counting the ringing of the bells._

 _One, two, three... one, two, three..._

 _"Unnamed God... Yackle is dead..."_

"And?" Silence. "Trism, _and_?"

He shook his head. "They believe it may be the body of that... that _fraud_ that... managed to worm their way into your parents' court, the one who claimed to be able to heal your brother-"

"Yackle." He nodded. She shivered; even after all these years, even knowing that the mystic was dead and gone, the name still sent shivers up her spine. She wrapped her arms around herself, quickly rubbing her arms in attempt to warm herself, to chase the chill a mere name could cause away, maybe even an attempt to chase away the acts that mystic had performed not just on her brother, but her and her sisters as well. Trism made his way to her, wrapping his arms around her, holding her against him, in hopes of calming her down. She sighed, relaxing in his embrace, before pulling away.

"Wait, why didn't you tell me last night after you brought me back inside? Why did you wait to-"

"Because I was worried about you being outside as you were." He glanced back towards the window, and the raging storm still continuing outside. "And... I also didn't know how you would react." He reached up, brushing that errant strand out of her eyes. "I didn't want to tell you and upset you, because I know how close your family was to-"

"Yackle _scared_ me, Tris." She cut him off, meeting his gaze. "To be honest, I was glad when word came, when Mama got that letter. I never admitted it to her, or my sisters or Shell or Papa, but I was glad to find out that Yackle was dead."


	11. Chapter 11

**Rifiuto: Non Miriena**

 **A/N:** **Written: 2006. Found: 2018.- Licia**

 _She quickly and quietly served the tea, trying hard to not pay attention to the conversation, as was required by the servants, but it was hard. She had been the Empress's personal favorite for years, and was used to keeping her ears tuned to any form of conversation. The children sat quietly, as they were used to doing, and listened, only answering when being spoken too, sharing silent conversations among themselves when they thought the adults weren't looking. Elphaba, however, was not at tea, and after a moment, Melena bid the young maid go in search of her third daughter._

 _She did not get very far. Midway down the hall, voices met her, and she ducked within a small nook, peeking around the corner._

 _"... it is very tragic, what is happening within the streets of our beloved Fliaan during this... revolution."_

 _"Indeed, it is, Kauri. But know that no matter what happens, the people still love your mother and father, and all of you, and that love will see you through the revolution."_

 _The girl smiled softly, sadly, at him, a haunted look in her dark eyes. "Thank you, Officer Meszha."_

 _The young man bowed to her and then hurried off, leaving the young girl in the hallway by herself. Without a word, the young maid slipped out from hiding, making her way towards the young princess, who appeared to be lost in thought. "Kauri?"_

 _Slowly, Elphaba's dark eyes moved from their place trained on the floor to meet the maid's, and she watched as something flashed in the girl's eyes. "Yes, Cata?"_

 _She bit her lip. "Your is mother wondering where you got off to. She asked me to fetch you. You're late for tea."_

 _Elphaba nodded, and silently fell into step beside the older girl, following her back to Melena's Rose Room. Once seated between Raina and Elia, normality returned- for a short time. The third daughter seemed to be uncharacteristically silent, her mind elsewhere. It was common for Elphaba to offer up small stories or bits of conversation she found interesting during tea, but today, not even a whispered 'Yes' or 'No' came from her lips. She sipped her tea in silence, gaze locking on the plate of pastries in the center of the table._

 _"I don't see how you can be so strong, Melena. I would surely have fallen apart by now, were revolution to hit the Gillikin." Glinda glanced at her mother as the others shared glances at the woman's statement. The empress smiled quickly, meeting her sister-in-law's gaze._

 _"It's not easy, Illnora. But we have each other." She reached for Nessa's hand, squeezing gently. "And our Fabala," Melena's gaze lit on her third daughter. "Fabala is a reminder to all of us to be strong. No matter the horrors we hear of, Fabala is always calmest. My darling girl has the bravery of a thousand Fliaanian soldiers, and she reminds us all every day to be just as brave as her, for she is not scared."_

 _The young princess let a quick smile tug at her lips, before it fell. Minutes later, she pushed her cup away. "Excuse me, Mama. Forgive me, but I wish to be excused." Without waiting for a response, she slipped out of her seat between her older sisters, making a beeline for the door. The others shared glances; it was uncommon for Elphaba to ever leave a room in such a hurry as she had. When Raina and Elia offered to go after her, Melena shook her head. Cata, seeing this as her chance, quickly removed the empty platter that had once held finger sandwiches from the table and grabbed one of the empty tea pots, quietly excusing herself to the kitchens._

 _Once outside of the empress's private quarters, she handed the things to Candle, another maid on her way to the kitchens, and then hurried off to find Elphaba. She searched everywhere, turning up no sign of the young girl. On her way out of the children's classroom, she stopped, listening. She stood just in outside the doorway to the small parlor of the children's quarters that the five children shared; a fire crackled in the grate, and there was no one in the room-_

 _More soft sobbing._

 _A shuddering breath._

 _Another sob._

 _Slowly, she turned, pushing the door gently open, scanning for any sign of the person making the noise. The parlor was dark, due to the drawn curtains, but there was enough light coming through the crack in the curtains, and from the fireplace that she could make out shapes of the furniture and bookcases. Another sob reached her ears, and she entered cautiously, a hunter in search of her prey._

 _No one._

 _Maybe it was her mind playing tricks on her._

 _She turned to go, and again, heard something._

 _A gasp for breath, followed by several hard sobs and the sound of someone sniffling._

 _Her head turned in the direction of the noises, and she slowly picked her way through the semi-darkened room, before finally rounding the corner that led to Elphaba and Nessa's room._

 _There, on the floor in the corner, between the room she shared with her sister and the parlor she and her siblings called theirs, crouched the third Kauri of the Thropp dynasty. As pale as her mother, Elphaba had tears streaming down her cheeks, her nose was red and raw and dripped in the most unladylike way. The elegant twist her mother had had her dark hair put up in that morning was falling out, and she was struggling between catching her breath and sobbing._

 _Suddenly, it became quite clear to the young maid that for all Elphaba's bravery, for all the praise her mother placed on her for being 'so strong, so brave' in this dark time in their family's history, that Elphaba was not only under considerable, terrible strain, but she was buckling beneath it, and it threatened to drown her, like it often drowned her oldest sister. That that much strain could be placed upon such young shoulders just showed that she was so exceedingly young, so helpless, so hurt, and yet, she also showed considerable resolve, lasting as long as she did, before excusing herself to break down in the privacy of her and Nessa's rooms instead of before her family._

 _She knew all, knew everything that was going on, and though her youth had kept her from understanding it all, she understood enough that it was slowly destroying her. Killing her. And she was concealing it, hiding it, for the sake of her beloved mother._

 _"Oh, Kauri."_

 _The whisper was soft, but not soft enough that Elphaba didn't hear. Her head lifted automatically, and she choked on a sob, reaching up to brush at the tears on her cheeks, swiping the back of her hand along the bottom of her nose, collecting the mucus that dripped from the tip of it in a way that if Melena saw, she'd be scolded for. "Cata."_

 _Her voice was thick with tears, and she let loose a soft sob, tears filling her eyes and sliding down her cheeks as she once again crumbled. Slowly, the maid moved to kneel before her, digging into her pocket and pulling out a handkerchief to quickly wipe at the girl's nose. Elphaba let her, ducking her head once the girl removed the cloth, and sobbing. She let out a low, soft, pitiful wail; similar to the sound an abandoned dog made, and gently, the maid reached out to take her shoulders. "Oh Elphaba Frexparia-"_

 _"What if they come, Cata? What if they come to take her away? Papa will never-"_

 _The maid furrowed a brow. "What if who comes to take who away, Kauri? I don't understand."_

 _"Mama! What if they come and take her away and kill her? They'll leave us alone, and Papa cannot-" The girl dissolved into heart-wrenching, painful sobs, throwing her arms around the older girl, resting her head on the maid's shoulder. Her small body shook with sobs as she finally gave up and gave in, her cries echoing through the quiet rooms._

 _Unaccustomed to being touched by any of the royal children in such a way, it took the her a moment before she finally slid her arms around the teenage girl, holding her close. She reached up, stroking a hand through the messy black curls, humming softly on occasion. Eventually, she stopped her humming, and simply held the girl, allowing her to cry herself into exhaustion._

Soft laughter reached her ears, and the woman looked up, watching as Elphaba held out a strawberry dipped in fresh whipped cream to her husband. He pulled away briefly, giving her a look, and she laughed. Finally, after giving her one last look that screamed that he didn't fully trust her, the young king opened his mouth and let his queen feed him the sweet, sticky dessert. She giggled, finishing the other half of the fruit with a smirk, as the juice dripped down her chin in a light red line. She reached up to catch it, but her husband beat her too it, grabbing a napkin and gently wiping it away, before he leaned down and captured her lips in a kiss.

He slid an arm around her waist, pulling her to him, as she reached up, cradling his face in her hand as the kiss deepened slightly. Eventually, the Vinkun king pulled away, kissing her one last time before reaching for his mug. He took a sip before holding it out to her. She accepted with a small smile, taking a sip before setting it down again and returning her attention to her husband, capturing his lips in another kiss.

Dinner had finished an hour and a half ago, and the young rulers had slipped away to the kitchens of Colwen Grounds for some coffee and strawberries, promising to have the servants bring some back for everyone- for it was the first night of Aelfastia, the week-long Fliaanian holy holiday that observed the arrival of Saint Aelphaba, who had come to Fliaan to spread the word of the Unnamed God to the people; while xervices, feasts and small gifts were exchanged, in honor of Aelphaba's gifts to the people of Fliaan- but somewhere along the way, their plan had been pushed aside in favor of each other. She knew that the young empress wasn't particularly religious anymore- the slaughter of her family and her ten years in an orphanage in Munchkinland would do that to a person- but she still observed the holy days and holy holidays, because they were a part of her; they were as much a part of her as her black hair and the diamonds by her eyes.

The young king sighed into the kiss, running a hand up her back and quickly removing the single bobby pin that held her twist in place. The soft strands cascaded down her back in a waterfall of raven silk, and he tangled his hand in her hair, pulling her flush against him. Cata glanced at the other servants; some watched them with looks of surprise or shock, others with looks of envy, longing or sadness.

"They _dare_ to do that here? Does the king plan to take Her Majesty upon the table before us?" One of the girls, a young teenager named Lyira asked one of the others, a look of longing to be touched and kissed the way her mistress was, flitting across her face, for the girl was a romantic at heart. Cata chuckled softly to herself, and shook her head. She watched as Trism broke the kiss, meeting her gaze with a look that screamed absolute and true love. Gently, he brushed a strand of hair off her cheek, whispering tenderly those three little words many of the young women in the royal household longed to hear some day directed at them. Their young empress beamed at him, reaching up to brush her thumb across the apple of his cheek, as she returned the sentiment. Again, he kissed her, drinking her in, before pulling away and kissing her forehead.

She watched as he pulled away, making his way towards the long table in the center of the kitchen. "Sorry about that, Cata-"

"Never apologize for showing affection to your wife, Your Majesty. For you never know when it may be the last time you do so." The cook glanced at Elphaba, who had joined him, and Elphaba knew she was speaking of her parents, and the massacre that had stolen them from the world. Elphaba remained silent, sipping her husband's cup of coffee as he asked about bringing coffee and dessert into the parlor. Cata agreed, saying she'd have a couple of the girls get right on it; she glanced at Elphaba, who stayed quiet. Trism thanked her, and with a kiss to Elphaba's head, left the kitchen, returning to the back parlor. Once gone, Cata returned to Elphaba, who looked up at her.

"What? Cata, what's wrong?"

The cook simply shook her head. "Nothing, Your Majesty. I'm just glad to see you so happy. I'm glad that the burdens you carry are no longer your own, but ones you can share with His Majesty. There was a time, not very long ago, when you felt you could not share those burdens with anyone, not even a lowly scullery maid."


	12. Chapter 12

**Rifiuto: Non Miriena**

 **A/N:** **Written: 2006. Found: 2018.- Licia**

It started off simple.

She sneezed.

It wasn't uncommon, with the weather turning as it was towards spring from winter, with the flowers slowly starting to come out of sleep and the air starting to warm. Fliaan could be unseasonably hot in summer, but in spring, between the Feast of Saint Aelfastia and the first day of the summer solstice, the weather was always cool and light, as though the country were just starting to shake off the dust of winter and embrace spring.

That being said, Elphaba often spent her free days at home outside in the sprawling gardens of Colwen Grounds, chatting with Glinda, Partra, Trot- when she and Zor came to visit with the children- and Locasta over tea, or playing with her children, be it on the wooden swing Trism had had constructed further back in the smaller section of the garden that he deemed his wife's, or through a game of Hide and Seek or Blind Man's Bluff.

So it was one afternoon while she and Trism were spending the afternoon outside in the garden; Glinda, Partra and Locasta had joined them and were sitting together having tea not far from where Elphaba and Trism were playing Blind Man's Bluff with the children. Elphaba snuck up behind her husband, a light, black scarf in hand, and quickly tied it around his head, cutting off his sight. "Oh, very funny, Fabala!"

The young monarch giggled, turning her husband to face her. "You were the one who suggested it, my love, it's only fair that you start us off." She adjusted the blindfold, taking on a serious tone. "Now, can you see me?" He shook his head. "Good." She made a show of kissing him, before proceeding to gently push on his shoulders to get him to turn around. "What to help me, loves?"

By the time they backed away, Trism was well and truly dizzy, and he took a moment to get his bearings before reaching out for the others. "All right, where are you?"

Laughter met him; with the exception of Ryn, Vala and Ruli, who were all too young to play, and stuck close to Cattery, who was helping them pick flowers, the older children were enjoying the sunshine with their parents. Having finished their lessons early, Trism and Elphaba had agreed that they could spend a couple hours outside, that the fresh air would do them good. Trism made sure that if either Chiss or Kio got hurt, that they were to inform either him or their mother immediately. The two oldest boys had agreed, promising to be careful.

Blindly, Trism reached out, narrowly missing his oldest son as the boy backed away, bumping into his mother, who rested her hands on his shoulders. She leaned down, whispering softly in his ear, and he nodded, giving his father a wide berth before reaching out to tug on the pocket of his slacks. Trism turned, but the boy dashed away with a giggle. With her father turned, Faola, six months shy of turning eight, snuck up behind him, reaching up and tapping the young king on the shoulder. Her father immediately turned, and she fled, dashing into the garden with a laugh.

"Faola?" Trism turned, reaching out, but Havni ducked, and after a moment, Fechin grabbed her sister's hand, tugging her away. Slowly, Faola came back, stopping not far from him. "Havni? Fechi?" Only Trism and Elphaba called the young girl by the shortened version of her more common nickname- it was personal, to both her parents, and the girl often got upset when someone else in the family used it, for it was strictly 'Mama and Daddy's nickname' for her. "Kio?"

Chiss moved closer, reaching out to grab his father's hand and tug before pulling away. Elphaba wrinkled her nose, feeling the desire tickle, and after a moment, she turned her head, sneezing into the side of her arm a couple times. The noise caused her husband to turn, and she looked up as he advanced, backing up a couple steps, even as he reached out, those long, slender fingers she loved reaching up to caress her cheek. Unlike the children, who often fumbled when they reached up to touch her face during this game, Trism knew his wife by heart. His fingers slid over her features, both hands now gently caressing her skin. Despite the blindfold, his brow creased, and a look of confusion crossed his features. His thumb gently moved down the bridge of her nose and over the small depression between her nose and upper lip and he stopped, feeling something sticky glide over his skin. Without a word, he reached up, tugging the blindfold up in order to see-

"Unnamed God, Fabala, you're bleeding!"

Without a word, his wife reached up, surprise filling her dark eyes as she felt the blood pouring from her nose. Chiss and Faola were by their mother's side in an instant, and after a moment, Elphaba turned to her husband. "It's nothing, my love. Just a minor nose bleed. I've gotten them before-"

"If it's so minor, Fabala, then why hasn't it stopped?" He asked, as Cattery, who had heard the commotion and came back with the younger children to see what was wrong, quickly rushed to grab a napkin from the table before returning and pressing it against her mistress's nose.

"Tris, you're over-re-"

" _You're a carrier, Fabala!_ Or have you forgotten that?" Her husband snapped, wrapping an arm around her waist and taking her back inside. Glinda, Partra and Locasta all stood, and upon realizing what was happening, hurried to gather the children and follow their parents inside. "Cattery, fetch Dillamond, please." without a word, the maid did as told.

By the time Cattery returned with Dr. Dillamond in tow, the bleeding still hadn't stopped, and Trism had had Elphaba tilt her head forehead while he applied pressure to the bridge of her nose. Glinda was nervously standing beside the pair, wringing her hands, for this was what the blonde feared.

 _"What of it? Doctor, what of my daughter?"_

 _The man took a deep breath, teeth sliding out to bite his lip as he glanced back towards the operating room. Rather than send a nurse to inform the family of what was developing, he had decided to go himself, for the situation was dire. He turned back to the emperor and empress, the other Grand Princesses and the young heir, the young countess and her parents- the emperor's brother and sister-in-law, the dowager. So many waited for news of the young girl, who was merely having her tonsils taken out- a simple procedure. Or, it should have been._

 _"Doctor!"_

 _Melena's voice snapped him back to the present, and he sighed._

 _"The young Kauri began to hemorrhage, Your Majesty."_

 _The other girls gasped, and the young blonde countess that was Elphaba's playmate covered her face with her hands in horror. Melena gripped Frexpar's hand, and he wrapped an arm around her waist to hold her up. "My daughter-"_

 _"I believe it's best if we stop the surgery, Your Majesty, and you begin preparing last rites."_

 _Melena seemed to think this over for a moment, before she met the man's gaze, and shook her head. "No. You have started this, you must finish it."_

 _"Melena!"_

 _"Mama, no!"_

 _"You can't!"_

 _"Fabala could die if he continues!"_

 _"Auntie Melena, please!"_

 _"Think about this, Melena!"_

 _But the empress held up a hand silencing all protests and pleas. "If you do not finish it, my beloved Fabala could die anyway. Please, doctor, finish the surgery."_

 _"Melena!" Frexpar grabbed her roughly by the shoulders, turning her to face him. "Have you lost your wits? She is not a fully grown adult! She is a child! A child!" He tried hard to block out the soft sobs of his daughter's sisters and brother, her cousin, as they huddled together. "Think of Fabala!"_

"She'll be okay, Glinda." Trism said, in attempt to calm her fears. The blonde turned to him.

"You don't know that, Trism. You don't know this disease, not like we do. You didn't listen to Shell when he was in pain from a fall. You weren't there the day Fabala hemorrhaged on the operating table when she had her tonsils taken out. You-"

" _I_ don't know this disease?" The young king scoffed at the countess, blue eyes wide. "Glinda, I don't know if you _remember_ , but I watched my wife _hemorrhage_ after the birth of our youngest children. My sons- _our_ sons- suffer from the same disease my brother-in-law did! My wife and I have sat by their beds and held them when they're in so much pain it nearly kills us both to witness it! And you _dare_ have the _audacity_ to say that _I don't know this disease_? Forgive me, Countess Upland, if I find your bold declaration of what I do and do not know in regards to this disease just a tad out of line."

Everyone with the exception of Elphaba and Locasta shrunk back, for at that moment, it wasn't the young husband and father they normally saw at Colwen Grounds, but the Vinkun King, giving a very stern reprimand to a member of his court. Glinda stepped back, lowering her head and murmuring a soft apology. Dillamond made his way to the couple, kneeling down to study the young woman. "Look up for me, Your Majesty."

Several minutes passed, before he was finally able to assess what was happening, and then proceeded to clean her nose as best he could before cauterize the wound. Once done, he stepped back. "Her Majesty should be all right. Have her rest for the rest of the day, and place ice on it every couple of hours to help the pain. She should be fine in no time."


	13. Chapter 13

**Rifiuto: Non Miriena**

 **Written: 2006, Found: 2018.- Licia**

 _April, 1937_

She lay in bed, watching the evening sky through the windows; the curtains were pulled back, and the moon shone through, soft light dusting over her face like snow. Her thoughts drifted back to those long ago years, when she was still a teenager- a child, really- before her marriage, before her children even. The moon hadn't shown as brightly as this that long ago night, when she and her parents had arrived at the Governor's mansion. It had been dark, with the faintest hint of a crescent within the sky above.

She buried her face in the pillow, trying hard to block the memories out, but it was no use. It was nights like this, when her mind would wander back to those years, those days of captivity, before her family was ripped apart by shrapnel and cold steel, that were the hardest for her. The nights when she couldn't sleep, and so lay in bed beside her husband, as memories of a time long since gone by came flooding back with a vengeance. Most nights, they were memories of growing up, of visits to the City, of dancing on the deck of _The Grimmerie_ with sailors, or riding bicycles through the palace grounds. And other nights, like tonight...

She felt Trism's arm slide over her hip, pulling her to him in his sleep, and he sighed, burying his face in her hair before settling down again. She turned her head to glance at him, and after a moment, she reached up, threading her fingers through his hair and scratching his scalp gently. He breathed her name in his sleep, tugging her closer, and she sighed, closing her eyes and telling herself that she _needed_ to sleep. It wouldn't do her any good to dwell on the past.

 _"Fabala, wake up. Fabala!"_

Her eyes snapped open. Papa stood over her, dressed and ready to go. "... Papa?"

 _"Get up and get dressed. Hurry. We mustn't keep them waiting."_

She threw back the covers of the bed, climbing to her feet. Moments passed, as she shuffled around in the darkness, before finding the coat she'd flung over a chair earlier after coming back from a meeting with Parliament, and hastily pulled it on, making sure every button was closed. Once done, she hurried after her parents, slipping quietly out of the bedroom, shutting the door with a soft click.

It was a rainy April night nineteen years earlier, when the three members of the former Fliaanian royal family were awoken at midnight, and escorted into the small town of Vextasian, the town that would house the building that would become their death chamber. She remembered drinking in every detail she could see, that she she could write to her siblings. Despite the rain, the lantern light were like suns, bright and startling.

 _"Citizen Thropp, Citizenesses Thropp."_

 _The men that greeted them wore similar clothing; heavy coats to block the chill, hats and gloves to protect themselves. They were burly, strict-looking men, who watched her with lust in their eyes, as she stood at her mother's side, suitcase clutched tight within her grasp._

 _"Stay close to me, darling." Melena whispered, taking her daughter's hand and pulling the fourteen-year-old into her side. Elphaba nodded, lifting her chin, voice soft._

 _"I will, Mama."_

She was slow, careful, as she made her way down the stairs to the first floor and to the front door. Not a soul appeared to be awake in the house, not that Elphaba noticed, too wrapped up in the memory of that night was she. Eventually, she reached the door, and after several moments, she softly pulled it open, slipping outside and onto the porch. The door clicked softly shut behind her, alerting the person still working in the kitchen. The scent and sound of the rain immediately filled her senses, and she gasped softly. She could hear the murmur of voices not far away, smell the smoke from the passing locomotive as it sped by, feel the leers of the men who had stood before her and her parents all those years ago.

After making her way to the edge of the landing, she stepped out; the coldness of the rainwater on the bottom of her foot should have been enough to jar her from the memory and send her hurrying back into the house, but it didn't. If anything, it only heightened the memory further, and she continued down the steps, before coming to the drive. Thunder cried out, and she turned back, as she had done that night, but, like then, no one was there.

 _Melena wrapped her arm around her waist, holding her close, tugging her to move as they followed the men to a cart and horse. In this very rural part of Fliaan, cars were uncommon; this was very much peasant country. And in this very rural country, the former emperor and his wife were reviled. She followed her parents, staying close to Melena's side as thunder roared above._

Upstairs, the booming cries of the thunder roused the young Vinkun king partially from sleep, and he reached for his wife-

His eyes snapped open when his hand hit the mattress beside him; vaguely, he noted that her side of the bed was empty... thunder roared again, and he bolted upright. He was alone, his wife's side bare, the covers thrown back hastily. "Fabala?" As his gaze scanned the darkness, he realized that the dark blue coat she'd tossed across the chair earlier was gone. Without a word, he threw back the covers of their bed and hastily put his shoes on. There was a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach, a feeling that told him she wasn't anywhere within the walls of Colwen Grounds. Being careful not to wake their children, or Locasta, Glinda or Partra, or the rest of the household, he slipped out of the room and hurried down the stairs, alerting Cata in his haste. _"Fabala?"_

 _The cart rumbled along under cover of darkness. She, Papa and Mama sat huddled in the back, holding tight to their things. She rested her head against Mama's shoulder, letting the stars overhead pass her by. It had been a long journey, and she was so tired, but she couldn't sleep. Not until she knew where they were going, and that they would be safe. Mama reached up, brushing her fingers through her curls and pressing a kiss to her head. "Sleep, Fabala. One of us needs their rest. Papa and I are right here. We will wake you when we arrive."_

 _"I don't want to, Mama. I'm not tired. You need to sleep more than I do."_

Trism, meanwhile, had made it onto the porch; his blue gaze hastily scanned the grounds for any sign of his wife, but with the blinding rain, it was impossible to tell a shrub from the gate, let alone find a person. "Your Majesty? Is everything all right?"

He turned back, to find Cata in the doorway; the cook, unable to sleep, had been up most of the evening baking. There was a streak of flour across her forehead, and her hands were still dusted, as though covered in snow. He shook his head. "I... I can't find Fabala. She's gone. I woke up and she wasn't in bed with me. Her coat is gone also; she's not in the palace. I think..." He bit his lip, turning back to stare out into the storm. "I fear... she's out in the storm. But I... I can't see her. I can't see anything through the rain."

The young cook nodded, needing to hear nothing else. Something heavy tugged at her heart, and she met his gaze. "I'll get my coat and help you search, Your Majesty."


	14. Chapter 14

**Rifiuto: Non Miriena**

 **Written: 2006, Found: 2018.- Licia**

 _"Fabala! Elphaba!"_

She stopped her searching, lowering the flashlight she held, as the young king turned back to her. The look on his face tore at her heart; the fear, the worry. She knew that of everything and everyone, the young empress was his light, his very heart and soul. He loved his children, all of them, he really did, but his wife was his reason for living. She was his world, and right now, that world was crumbling beneath him...

"We'll find her, Your Majesty. She can't have got far-" She stopped. "What day is it?"

Trism turned back to her. "What?"

"The day, Your Majesty? What is the date?"

Quickly, he ran back over the calendar in his head head, before, "It's the eighteenth of April. Why?"

Cata paled, hurrying to him and taking his hand, though it was unprofessional and inappropriate of a woman of her station to touch the young royal without them having offered their hand first. But right now, none of that mattered. "I know why she's gone."

"What? What do you mean? Why? Cata, what's so important about the eighteenth of April? Cata! Answer me!"

When they reached the gate, she turned back to him. "Your Majesty, April eighteenth was the day we were taken from the palace. _Kauris_ Sophelia, Oziandra, Nessarose, the young prince, the loyal few and I. The next morning, I was separated from them; I was forbidden to follow. Those horrid, evil men held me back on the platform as they loaded the rest of my family onto the train and it pulled out of the station. That was the last time I saw them."

Trism registered her slip, subtle as it was. "My family?" He shook his head. "You... you said 'my family.'" She bit her lip, swallowing. "You told me you were part of the _royal household_ , a servant to Elphaba's mother. And yet... you speak of them as though they were your sisters... and Fabala... all thru-out her pregnancies- every single one- you treated my wife like a sister instead of an employer. You speak of her as if you had not just watched her grow up from your place in the servants' quarters." He grabbed her shoulders, meeting her gaze. "What are you hiding, Cata? You have secrets, you and my wife- and she and I promised to _never_ hide things from each other. And yet-" He shook his head. " _Who are you_?"

She shook her head. "I can't. Not until I know the Kauri is safe-" She pulled away, but he tightened his grip.

" _She's not the Kauri, she's the empress!_ "

"She will _always_ be the _Kauri_ to me, no matter her station in life, Your Majesty." She pulled away. "We have to find her." Not giving him time to respond, she pulled away; he followed. They stopped before the gate, to find it slightly ajar. _"No-"_

"She could be anywhere. It's... five minutes to the nearest town by car, but the Unnamed God knows how long by foot. We'd have to wait until the storm cleared to search." Tears choked his voice, and he swallowed firmly. _"Fabala!"_

Cata shook her head, taking a deep breath. "I was born in the palace, to a kitchen maid. I grew up a companion to the _Kauris_ , and the favorite servant of their mother. The royal family of Fliaan was the only family I knew, the only family I had. And in April of that year, I lost them. All of them but one. She is my family, Your Majesty, just as she is the mother of your children. If it bothers you so, I shall seek employment elsewhere after she is found and safe-"

He grabbed her wrist. "Don't. Fabala would never forgive me if you left. She loves you, adores you. You have given us more loyalty than half the countries in Oz. You're family. I just wish she had _told_ me-"

"Her Majesty is private about her family, and what happened to them. She believes it's her burden to bear, and to bear it alone. She forgets that they were my family, too."

He nodded, turning back to the gate. The storm was getting worse, the rain getting thicker. If they had any hope of finding her alive, unharmed, it was now. There was no other option. "Later." He slipped through the gate, turning back to her. "Are you coming or not?"

After a couple moments, the cook followed. But there were no footprints to track, no sounds but the pounding rain and grumble of thunder to listen for. Eventually, the sound of rushing water met their ears, and Trism turned back to the woman. They weren't far from Colwen Grounds; a mile, at most, out close to the Southern moors, for Colwen Grounds was surrounded by lush, beautiful rolling hills. While not completely secluded, they were far enough away from the hustle and bustle of the city that it didn't bother them, but close enough that it didn't take too long to _get_ to the city by car. But, being tucked this far within the beauty of southern Fliaan, also meant nature was all around them. Including the Nevoka River, which cut diagonally through the heart of Fliaan, including the city where the Winter Palace resided. Cata turned to him. "The river?"

He nodded, and they moved closer. They could hear the roar of the water over the cries of the rain, and in the soaked glow of his flashlight, he could just make out a figure, standing not far from the edge. "That can't-"

"Your Majesty!" Cata cried out, grabbing his arm, and Trism's heart leapt into his throat. A flash of black hair, the pale blue of her pajamas.

"No... Fabala. _Fabala!_ "

Pulling himself from the cooks' grasp, he rushed towards his wife, praying that he got to her before she stepped off the bank and into the rushing river below.


	15. Chapter 15

**Rifiuto: Non Miriena**

 **Written: 2006, Found: 2018.- Licia**

 _"Fabala!"_

She turned back, but the voice faded within the sound of the rain. Drawing her attention back to the matter at hand, she took a deep breath.

 _They were ushered quickly into the House of Special Purpose, for fear someone was up in the middle of the night and would see. She held her head high, drinking in their surroundings as the guards searched her person for the Unnamed God knew what. In her head, she started the first letter of many that she would send to her sisters and brother, that they would receive before their own journey to join them._

 _My darling sisters and brother,_

 _It is so dreary here. We had so much more freedom before now. Not even twenty minutes within what will be our new home, and I can know already it will be much stricter than before..._

 _"Fabala. Come on, my dear." Mama held out her hand, and once she was free of the guard, she hurried to her._

She reached out, over the bank of the river-

Strong arms grabbed her around the waist, lifting her off her feet and pulling her back. Her memory on autopilot, she did the first thing she could think of; she lashed out. _"No! No, please! Leave me alone!"_ Eventually the person set her down, several feet from the bank of the river, and she ripped away, stumbling to the ground and attempting to crawl away. _"_ _Please! Let me go!_ _"_

Her companion knelt down, grabbing her by the shoulders and turning her to face him. _"Fabala! Fabala, stop, it's me! It's Trism! Remember?"_

She fought him, small fists pounding on his chest in a desperate attempt to get him to release her. _"No! Let me go! Please! Leave me alone!"_

Trism knelt before her, tears trailing down his cheeks as he watched his wife. He'd seen her meltdowns before, but they'd never been this extreme, this... _heartbreaking_. He glanced at Cata, who stood with her hands covering her mouth, in a desperate attempt to keep calm, before turning back to his wife. Then, without another word, he gathered the suffering young woman to his chest, holding her tight beneath his chin. She fought him still, pushing against him in attempt to break free, sobs escaping her throat. "Fabala, _please_." His voice was soft, tender, but it did nothing to calm her.

 _Once she became settled in the room she was to share with her sisters once they arrived, she left the upper floor, passing by Mama, Papa and Shell's room to go downstairs and explore was was her new home while her parents themselves got settled. There were guards everywhere, watching her, making sure she didn't run off. It was much more stifling here than it had been back at the palace._

 _She turned back, one guard catching her eye._

She struggled against him, shaking her head. _"No... please. Don't..."_

Trism turned his gaze to Cata's, who took a deep breath and shook her head. She had been forbidden to go with the rest of the family, so she had no clue as to what had happened in that House of Special Purpose, and for that one act, it had saved her life.

 _She had found that being friendly too the guards often helped to ease the strain she felt at being locked up, caged like a wild animal. The guards back at the palace had been kind to her, gentlemanly, despite the situation. When her birthday came, they had secretly bought her a cake, presenting it to her with a handmade card signed by all of them; no matter the situation, the change in their stations, she had begun to think of them as something akin to friends._

 _Her gaze locked on the guard for the briefest of moments, before she quickly turned away and continued her tour. She paused briefly, hearing footsteps behind her, and turned; he stood a few feet from her, watching her. Taking another deep breath, she continued on, eventually coming upon the water closet. Glancing quickly over her shoulder, she found that the guard was nowhere to be found, and seeing that as her chance, she softly pulled the door open and slipped inside, shutting it quietly._

 _It was small, as water closets are, with only room for one person at a time. Taking a deep breath, she leaned against the wall adjacent to the toilet, resting her palms and forehead against the wall and taking a deep breath to calm her nerves. Too much had happened in the last twenty-four hours, that her brain was having a hard time catching up._

"We have to get her back to the house, Your Majesty." Cata spoke softly, and after a moment, Trism stood, helping his wife to her feet and keeping a tight hold on her arm, despite her struggle. "We can send for Doctor Dillamond once we return; he can look her over, make sure she is all right."

 _The door opened, and she looked up; dim light illuminated the person in the doorway, and for the briefest of moments, she thought it was Papa. But he didn't speak; instead, he stepped inside and shut the door behind him. Her heart plummeted into her stomach as she realized it was the young guard who had watched her. He didn't say a word, but the closed door now made the small space even smaller and even more equally cramped. She met his gaze, shaking her head. "Please. Leave me alone."_

The young king didn't respond; he struggled to keep a tight grip on his wife. She tried to pull away, but he caught her, tugging her back to him. "No! Fabala, _stop_!" After several minutes, he scooped her up, not necessarily throwing her over his shoulder, but hoisting her high enough that she leaned against his shoulder. It was the only way he could really control her, despite her screams and cries. He had one arm tight around her legs, preventing her from kicking her feet, and the other around her waist, holding her in place. Her screams faded in to the driving rain, and Cata led the way back to the palace, glancing back every so often, praying they got back to Colwen Grounds in time, and that Elphaba would snap out of whatever had caught her in its grip.


	16. Chapter 16

**Rifiuto: Non Miriena**

 **A/N: Contains mentions of rape. Written: 2006, Found: 2018.- Licia**

 _She swallowed, tears coming to her eyes as he closed the gap between them. "No... please... don't..."_

 _He looked to be no older than her- perhaps by a couple of years, if that. His blue eyes drank her in, and after a moment, he reached out. Her gaze darted to his hand; she shook her head. "Please..." Slowly, his fingers grazed her waist, feeling the soft material of her blouse, the hardness of her corset beneath it. His eyes darted back up to hers, and he curved his hand around her waist, tugging her gently towards him. She resisted as much as she dared at the moment, before reluctantly letting him pull her close._

 _Their eyes locked, and for the briefest of moments, a flash of something appeared in his blue gaze. Recognition?_

 _No, it wasn't possible._

 _But it could be. You are the daughter of the rulers of Fliaan- the former rulers. Even if he has never seen you, he has heard of you._

 _She sniffled. "Please. Let me go back to my room. Please. I'm begging you."_

 _But instead of releasing her, he leaned close, pressing his mouth to hers._

Her screams woke the rest of the household, and Trism and Cata looked up to see Glinda, the children and the others coming to stand on the stairs, all rubbing various forms of sleep from their eyes. "Trism? What's going on?" Glinda asked, stifling a yawn. But the young king ignored her.

"Cattery, I know it's late, and it's storming, but I need you to go into the city and fetch Doctor Dillamond. Tell him it's an emergency, hurry!"

Without questioning it, the young girl turned, hurrying back to her room to grab a coat and her shoes before heading out. As Cattery left, Trism carried his wife upstairs, moving through the parting household and making his way to their bedroom. The children watched their parents, confused and worried. Eventually, Glinda and the others of the immediate family made their way to the bedroom, hurrying inside to help him, though they had no idea what was going on. They found Trism and Elphaba in the bathroom; the tub was quickly filling up with warm water, and Elphaba was fighting as Trism attempted to remove her pajamas from her.

 _"I'm begging you! Let me go back to my room, please!"_

He grabbed her shoulders, squeezing firmly. "Fabala, listen to me!" Tears filled his gaze. _"Please."_

 _She pushed against him, but he managed to maneuver them until her back was pressed against the wall._ _Slowly, his hands slid down her hips and over her thighs, tugging at the material of her skirt. She turned her head, managed to break the kiss, but his lips found hers again, and she whimpered as he deepened the kiss, as his hands slowly tugged her skirt up. She reached up, pressing her hands against his chest, attempting to push him away, but he refused to budge. "No... please..."_

Slowly, Trism slid his hands down his wife's sides, moving to her pajama top. He managed to remove it from her easily, but when he returned his hands to her waist and slipped his fingers into the waistband of her bottoms, she fought him.

 _Her skirt rose higher; at the tender age of fourteen, it was customary for girls to wear ankle-length skirts and their hair up; it signified going from girlhood to womanhood, that the young girl was now become a young woman. While each royal child received the diamonds by their eyes at eight months old, there was another tradition, one that was practiced regardless of status._

 _In the Fliaanian culture, once a young girl reached the age of fourteen, she would receive four small, blue diamond tattoos- one upon the center of the back of her neck, one between her shoulder blades, one in the middle of her back, and one just above her tailbone. These four diamonds marked the four periods of a young Fliaanian woman's life that she had and would got through- birth, girlhood, womanhood and motherhood. Raina and Elia both had the four small diamond tattoos upon their backs; Elphaba had been set to receive hers, but Papa's forced abdication and their captivity prevented the ritual, which meant her back was bare. Nessa also, would not receive her four tattoos, for she would not live to see fourteen._

"Fabala, stop! You have to let me- let me undress you! _Fabala!_ "

"Fabala?" Trism turned as Glinda stepped forward, her blonde curls a mass of tangles. She approached her struggling cousin as though she were approaching a wild animal; hands out and palms facing forward, and voice soft. "Fabala, please. A... a hot bath will do you good. You're probably suffering from fever, being out in that rain so long. Please, Fabala, let us help. Let Trism help you."

 _Her tears were hot against her cheeks, and she choked on a sob; her skirt was now bunched up around her hips, his hands now slowly, carefully- almost gently- exploring her thighs and the area between them. His fingers brushed against the black curls that resided below her waist and above the space between her thighs; she swallowed thickly, turning her head and closing her eyes in attempt to forget what was happening._

 _She hadn't the strength to fight back anymore. Oh, why hadn't she stayed upstairs with Mama and Papa? Why had she been curious about this new prison? She heard no noise outside the closet; they had arrived late, and Mama and Papa had most likely gone to bed. It was custom that they both turned in early. And she'd been quiet when leaving the second floor, so they probably both assumed she was still in her room; had they gone to check on her before going to bed and seen the light off, and believed she to be asleep?_

 _She knew not where the other guards were, but she knew right away that they would keep watch if anything happened- if the leering, whispered comments were anything to go by. They were most likely turning a blind eye to what was happening in the closet. A moment passed, as she felt his fingers brush against the sensitive folds between her legs; she squirmed, pressing herself against the wall, as though doing so would put distance between them. The only sound were her soft sobs, her ragged breaths, his soft breathing-_

 _"Mhmm." She bit her lip, closing her eyes against the light pain as he pressed against the tissue between her folds- the tissue that would break upon the consummation of her marriage. She whimpered softly as he continued applying light pressure. The pressure continued, matching the pounding of her heart, the pulsing of the blood in her ears. Her teeth dug into her lip, drawing blood as he continued, blue gaze locked on her face. She struggled to keep a straight face, though it was no use. Though she longed not to give him the pleasure of seeing her in pain, what she was experiencing was too great for her to ignore._

 _A soft, keen-like whimper escaped her, and she pushed against his chest again, but he ignored her attempts at escape. "No... please... don't..."_

 _A sob broke free from her lips as she felt something begin to tear between her legs; it was painful, not just physically, but emotionally, and, somewhere, deep down in the back of her mind, mentally and psychologically, for deep down, she knew what it was, what was happening, what he had decided to do to her and why he was ignoring her feeble protests. Eventually, he pulled his fingers away; in the darkness, she didn't know if they were stained with the blood of her innocence or not. She met his gaze, hoping he would now release her and let her return to her room upstairs, but when he locked eyes with her, she realized he would not be letting her go any time soon. Without a word, the young guard forced his mouth upon hers, quickly undid his pants, and then, as she attempted to shove him away, forced her arms against the wall and above her head, keeping her in place._

 _She screamed against his mouth as she struggled to get away; the pain becoming even more unbearable._


	17. Chapter 17

**Rifiuto: Non Miriena**

 **A/N: Warning: Contains mentions of rape.** **Written: 2006, Found: 2018.- Licia**

Somehow, someway, Trism managed to get his wife completely undressed.

It had been a struggle, but eventually, after locking her in the room with him, he'd managed, despite her screaming, crying, begging.

And somehow, he'd managed to get her into the bath. By the time Cattery returned with Doctor Dillamond, Trism had managed to get his wife out of the bath and back into a clean, dry pair of pajamas. He'd tucked her into their bed and taken up residence beside her, holding her hand and stroking her hair. Her dark gaze moved to meet his, and she choked out two soft words that broke his heart. _"Please... don't..."_

"Your Majesty?"

He looked up as Doctor Dillamond made his way towards them. Trism choked on the words in his throat, as he stood, never releasing her hand. "What's... what's wrong... _help her, Doctor... I... I don't know what... what to do..._ " Gently, the good doctor moved the young king aside, causing him to release her hand, before turning to examine the young empress. _"I don't... I don't know what to do... for her... I don't know what..."_ Locasta hurried to her son, taking him into her arms, rocking gently back and forth as they waited for the good doctor to finish his examination.

Elphaba looked up at him, her gaze glassy, yet clear.

 _She slipped silently back into her room, hurriedly shutting the door behind her and making her way to the bed she'd chosen as hers. In silence, she dropped down onto it, tears drying on her cheeks. She throbbed, and most likely bled, down there, but she made no move to clean up._

 _She didn't even really get the chance, if she had had one._

 _For a soft knock on the door drew her attention from her own self destruction, and she looked up. "Your Highness?"_

With a speed no one knew she possessed, Elphaba reached out, grabbing Dillamond. Her small fingers latched around the older man's wrist, and she squeezed, swallowing thickly. _"Please... Sister... please..."_

Dillamond's gaze moved to the others in the room, but he didn't speak. He couldn't be sure of his hunch until she next spoke, and so he waited, patiently and with bated breath.

 _It was not her family's trusted physician who had been with them since before she had even been born, but a nun, in black habit and rosary beads, who stood within the doorway of her room, brought to them on this first night in what would be their slaughterhouse, with her fellow sisters, bearing food and a few meager blankets and other amenities to make the three former royals as comfortable as possible- all the guards would allow._

 _She shook her head, opening her mouth to speak. "I..." She sniffled. "I am... no longer a... a princess... sister..."_

 _The nun, in her late thirties, slipped into the room, hurrying to her side with a soft push of the door closing behind her. "Daffy, Your Highness." She took a seat beside the girl. "And you shall always be a princess, no matter your status in life."_

Tears slipped down her cheeks, as she met his gaze, her voice soft. " _When... when Doctor Dillamond arrives... I... I wish to... to have him... check me..._ "

The good doctor stopped, heart stalling. He had been a mere boy when his father had been murdered along with the other loyal three at the Governor's mansion that long ago night in nineteen-eighteen, when the last of the Thropps had been slaughtered in that basement.

 _"But whatever for, my child?"_

 _She sniffled, tightening her grip upon the nun's wrist. Tears filled her eyes, as she choked on the words. "Because... because I have been..."_

Dillamond glanced at the others. He knew that only Her Majesty _truly_ knew of his connection to the family's former physician; for when she had first sought him out, all those years ago, the first thing she had asked had been if he remembered having tea with the royal family, and chasing after the four daughters of the Fliaanian emperor when they played upon the beach as children. And when he'd answered that some of his fondest memories were of the daughters, she embraced him, telling him that his father had been a wonderful man, had served her family with pride and honor, and that she felt it only right to have his son now look after her and her growing family.

 _"... taken... my... my virtue has been... stolen... please, Sister Daffy, I beg you..."_

Gently, Dillamond laid a hand on her head, quieting her with his touch. "I will make sure the doctor knows, Your Highness."

 _She smiled softly, fresh tears sliding down her cheeks; tears the nun gently wiped away. The woman quietly whispered a prayer as she held the child close, for she was exactly that, a child. No matter the perceived wrongs her father and mother had done to the people, she, and her siblings, were still children, still innocents, that did not need to pay for their parents' sins._

Once she was asleep, Dillamond turned to the king, who stood with tears in his eyes, for he had been through an ordeal tonight himself, watching his beloved wife slip back into perceived madness. "Well?" The tears in the king's voice wrenched at his heart. The doctor felt immense heartache for the royal couple, for they had endured so much in the last several years-

"Her Majesty..." He swallowed, meeting the young king's gaze. "It is Post Traumatic Stress, Your Highness." No one noticed the slip except Trism, but the young man ignored it. Dillamond had known him from the time he had married Elphaba, when he'd still been Prince of the Vinkus, and the good doctor was allowed such a minor mistake. The young ruler nodded, arm crossed over his chest, elbow balanced on his hand, thumb nail between his teeth as he slowly paced nervously for several minutes before reaching up and running a hand through the mess that was his sandy hair.

"So how do we stop it, Doctor?" He turned to the man, arms out. "Tell me, how do we... stop this so I can have my wife back? So my children can have their mother?"

Dillamond shook his head. "I'm not sure, _Samraat_. There is no book to tell us how to treat this condition." Glances were shared between the others, except for Partra. Though Elphaba was the ruler, and therefore held the title of _Samrãjñī_ or Empress, Trism, as her consort, held the title of _Samraat_ , for he was her husband. The Dowager knew that there had been so few Empresses in Fliaanian history who had ruled without an Emperor by her side. Despite his background role, Trism was still her husband; Elphaba may have ruled Fliaan alone, but she still turned to her husband for counsel and support. "I've done all I can for Her Majesty at the moment."

"Thank you, Doctor. You may go." Slowly, Trim went back to their bed, climbing up beside his wife and taking her hand. He brought it to his lips, holding it there for several minutes. Never taking his eyes off his wife, he addressed the others in the room. "You can all go back to bed. Thank you for your concern."

No one moved for several minutes, before Glinda finally spoke up. "Trism, maybe we should-"

"You heard Doctor Dillamond, Glinda. He's done all he can for her for now. We need to let her rest."

"But Trism-"

"Now, Glinda!" He swallowed. _"Go, all of you!"_

Slowly, the others began filing out of the room, until only Cattery, Cata, Partra, Locasta and Faola remained. The young Crown Princess glanced at her grandmother and great-grandmother, before making her way to the bed. "Daddy?" Trism turned sharply, softening when he saw his oldest at the bedside. "Will Mama be okay?"

Wiithout releasing his wife's hand, he reached for his daughter, who climbed onto the bed, curling into his lap. Trism sighed, brushing a kiss to his oldest daughter's head. "I hope so, my little wolf." He pressed another kiss to her head, breathing in her scent, letting the familiar, heady scent of his child calm him, as it calmed all fathers. Then, he patted her hip. "Come on, pup, back to bed."

The girl turned to him. "But Daddy-"

"I'll be with Mama tonight, I won't let anything happen to her. I promise."

Once the child was gone, Trism turned back to Cata, who stood on the other side of the bed. He glanced at his wife's sleeping form, before turning back to the cook. "You gave me bits and pieces, out there in the storm tonight. My wife's home safe- as safe as she can be, given the circumstances- and now I want the truth. All of it, Cata."

The young cook glanced at the woman sound asleep in bed, and for the briefest of moments, she was staring at that eight-year-old girl, who had gotten so sick with measles they nearly lost her, had had to have her head shaved because of it, and then contracted pneumonia not long after, making her even sicker- to the point where she lost drastic amounts of weight, and by the time she turned nine, her eyes were almost too big for her small, gaunt face. The child who had turned into a walking skeleton, and took a year and a half fully recover- not just regrowing her long, black hair, but regaining weight and getting her strength back. Slowly, the woman's gaze moved from the empress to her emperor.

"You may have it, Your Majesty, but I must warn you- what you ask for is no fairy tale."


	18. Chapter 18

**Rifiuto: Non Miriena**

 **A/N:** **Written: 2006, Found: 2018.- Licia**

 _"What you ask for is no fairy tale."_

The strong scent of coffee wafted up to his nose, and he looked up as Cata set the cup before him. He let his gaze linger on the woman for several minutes, drinking in the soft roundness of her face, the brightness of her hazel eyes, the worry lines that seemed to permanently scar her forehead, the gentle upturn of her nose, the scar against her lower lip. She was not much older than Elphaba- perhaps by three or four years- though she looked much older than she was. Perhaps it was the constant hours she spent in the kitchens, overseeing the other scullery maids, surrounded by the steam and heat from the oven and stove, or the long hours spent up at night, when she would bake to calm her insomnia, but something was making the young woman appear much older than her thirty-five years.

Or, perhaps, it was the past she carried with her, hidden to all but the Empress, that aged her so prematurely.

For only Elphaba knew the truth of Cata's origins; only Elphaba knew the stories Cata kept like a well-read book.

Only Elphaba knew of Cata's childhood at the Winter Palace, those thirty-some years ago, when she had been a Grand _Kauri_ of Fliaan, a daughter of the highest social standing in all of Oz, much higher than mere princesses of the Rose Garden or any of the other small kingdoms of this world, when her family had lived in a world of jewels and parties and sickening excess- but lived as humbly as possible, despite their grand titles and high status.

"Tell me, Cata." He reached out, grabbing the woman's wrist as she moved to pour herself a cup, and the woman stopped, gaze snapping to the man's hand. His long, slender fingers gently cradled her wrist, being ever so tender, that it startled her, despite the fierceness of his grip. "Please. Tell me. I beg you."

He released her, and she finished pouring her cup before setting the pot back upon the stove and taking a seat across from him. Unlike Elphaba, whom Cata often sat beside when they spent afternoons in the kitchen reminiscing about old memories, Trism was, despite his gentle nature, not someone Cata fully trusted yet. Though it was evident that the young royal loved Elphaba with all his heart and soul, that he loved the children he had made with the former _Kauri_ , and he was kind and courteous with all the staff of Cowlen Grounds, often making sure if there was food left over from dinner, that they could send it home to their families, or making sure they had extra time off to spend with their loved ones, or making sure there was a little extra pay for them if something came up with one of their loved ones, he was still an outsider, that young, innocent Vinkun Prince who had come with his parents and brother to meet the Kauris when they were children, and Cata had a difficult time separating the little boy that she remembered in her head from the young man who now sat across from her.

It wasn't that Cata didn't trust him- for he had showed as much if not more loyalty to her and the rest of the staff as they had shown to the royal family, and it was more than evident that despite their status, Elphaba and their children were his first and foremost priority, at least when they were home- but she didn't _know_ him. Not like she knew Elphaba.

But then again, Cata and Elphaba shared a bond that Trism and Elphaba would never share.

 _One I hope they never share._ For it was one shaped by the splendour and bloodshed of a revolution that near wiped out a dynasty and destroyed a country.

A moment passed, before Cata swallowed thickly. She glanced at the ring on Trism's finger, the mate to the one Elphaba wore. Her mind flashed back to the master suite in the Winter Palace, when she was chosen by Melena to be her children's companion and her confidante. _A simple gold band, a strand of black pearls and emeralds, a jewel-encrusted hair comb shaped like a butterfly, being placed within mahogany locks..._

 _"Sophelia, Oziandra, come here my darlings. There is someone I want you to meet."_

 _Two little girls, one not much older than her, and the other her age, in white dresses, black hair held back by white ribbons. And the_ Samrãjñī, _Empress of All Fliaan, round with her third child, smiling down at her. "Girls, this is Cata. She is to be your new companion. Say hello."_

She swallowed, the memory fading with the steam from the coffee. Slowly, she lifted her gaze, meeting Trism's blue one. It was evident the strain the young man was under, and not for the first time did she wonder if telling him the truth of her past, of the connection to his wife, was a good idea. Would it drive him to madness? Make him hate her, and cast her out? Was she to once more be separated from the only family she knew, the only family she had so desperately searched for for so many years? She feared his reaction, and vowed to pack and leave the moment she was done with her tale. She would not stay to view his reaction, and though it would near kill her to leave Elphaba, she would, for she would not stay if she were not welcome.

"There was a time, Your Majesty, not very long ago," She swallowed, glancing back at the steam wafting up from her mug before turning her gaze back to his. "A time when you lived in a world- an enchanted world, filled with elegant palaces and grand parties; a world untouched by the poverty and hardship beyond the palace doors. And while your parents ruled the Vinkus, while your father, rest his soul, kept the peace within your country, my country was not so lucky."

Trism swallowed thickly at the mention of his father, for even all these years after Traper's assassination, he still felt the sting of such a loss. Cata smiled weakly.

"It was nineteen-hundred-and-eighteen, and Frexpar II was _Samraat_ of All Imperial Fliaan. You know the love story that shaped the dynasty- Frexpar II and Melena, the love that ended an empire, a love that weakened a government and allowed a mystic to take control behind the scenes. You grew up in that same circle, you saw the elegant excess and... disturbing wealth the Thropps and the other Fliaanian aristocracy lived within," Trism nodded; he had often thought, during the visits his family made to Fliaan, that the amount of wealth the royals lived within was disturbing- especially compared to the modest wealth the Tiggelaars and their court lived in.

It had been why the Vinkus had thrived for so long- Traper and Locasta had believed in putting much of the wealth in the betterment of the country as opposed to their court- which is why his first visit to the Thropps had startled him so- as well as disgusted his parents. Not Frexpar and Melena, so much, for they made sure their family lived very modest means despite their status, but the others of the court.

"Fabala's always said that her father made sure that they lived as much like the people as possible, despite their royal blood. 'If it was good enough for the people of Fliaan, it was good enough for the royal family,' I think is what she said Frexpar used to say. My family has always lived by modest means; my parents made sure the wealth of the monarchy went to bettering the Vinkus; it was for all her people, not just us. And Fabala and I- we've tried to do the same, tried to instill the same mindset into the children- if it's good enough for our people, then it's sure as hell good enough for us. Why should we have so much when there are so many who have so little? It's not right. We're trying to fix it."

Cata smiled softly; despite his youth, Trism understood the value of his people, of putting his people before his family, something Frexpar and Melena could never grasp. "There were five children born to the wealth and elegance of Imperial Fliaan, and there was one child, born to the lower classes, who's mother died when she was young, and who was plucked from the kitchens of the imperial palace, chosen by the Empress herself, to be the companion to her daughters- both born, and not yet born."

She could see the wheels turning in Trism's head as he slowly began to connect the pieces together. His blue eyes widened in surprise, and he inhaled sharply. "Wait-"

Cata nodded. "Your wife and I come from two very different classes, Your Majesty. I was born to a scullery maid and raised in the kitchens of the Winter Palace; she was born to the Empress of All Fliaan, and raised in the marble, hardwood and silk living quarters of the royal family." She swallowed, licking her lips nervously. "At a very young age, I became the companion to Kauris Sophelia and Oziandra, and after your wife was born, I became her companion too, and Nessarose's after she was born. At six years of age, I was returned to the kitchens after my mother died and made to earn my keep, but Her Majesty, rest her soul, asked that I become her confidante. I was her favourite. I waited on her the most."

"You were a lady-in-waiting?"

She shook her head. "I was a scullery maid who had favour with the most powerful woman in all of Oz. An orphan, left to fend for herself among the steam and heat of the palace kitchens, a guttersnipe treated better than most because I had gained the Empress's favour. And though I continued to work in the kitchens throughout my youth, I was still the girls' companion, still the confidante to the empress- though not as much as Countess Upland."

Trism nodded, knowing that she spoke of Glinda's mother, Melena's trusted companion and best friend. "Melena trusted you, more than Glinda's mother."

"Perhaps." Cata replied, sipping her coffee. "She certainly trusted me more when it came to matters of the children, especially _Kauris_ Elphaba and Nessarose. Despite their high status, I had found a family, where previously, I had had none."


	19. Chapter 19

**Rifiuto: Non Miriena**

 **A/N:** **Written: 2006, Found: 2018.- Licia**

 _"Please, Kauri, you cannot stay up there all day!"_

 _"No, Cata! I won't come down! I won't go to lessons today, I don't want to!"_

 _The teenager glanced quickly over her shoulder, before turning back to the tree she stood beneath. The youngest princess sat among the branches, her light blue dress quickly becoming torn and dirty from leaves and bark, her long black hair becoming home to all manner of leaves and twigs, the white bow she wore coming undone._

 _"You have to attend lessons, Kauri!" Gritting her teeth, the young companion balled her hands into fists at her sides, digging her nails into her palms. "If you do not come down, Nessarose Frexparia, your mother shall have my head! I will be sent back to the kitchens or cast out completely and then you shall never see me again, is that what you want?"_

 _She knew it was an empty threat she just presented, but a threat none the less, and her greatest fear. She had grown accustomed to being with the four daughters of the royal family, had grown particularly close to Elphaba and Nessarose, and when she had to return to the kitchens, it felt strange. She loved the girls, all four of them, she really did, and she feared being separated from them. The nine-year-old seemed to think for a moment, before shaking her head. The threat from her and her sisters' companion had made Nessa pause, but ultimately, didn't change her mind._

 _"Cata?"_

 _The thirteen-year-old turned at the soft voice; Elphaba Frexparia stood behind her, long black hair held back with a bow, a sunhat upon her head, the light blue dress she wore pristine and neat, so unlike her little sister's would be once she finally came down. They were spending time at Caprice-on-the-Pines, the family's name for their summer palace by the sea. "Do you need anything, Elphaba Frexparia?"_

 _"Can I help?" The teenager sighed, stepping back and giving Elphaba the floor, so to speak. It would be no use, but she could try, for Cata was getting nowhere. "Nessa? You need to come down. Now."_

 _"No, Fabala! I won't go to lessons! I already told Cata that I don't want to!"_

 _Elphaba planted her hands on her small hips, glaring up at her sister. "Nessarose, you come down this instant! Otherwise I will tell Papa and he is going to come get you!" The younger girl didn't move, and after a moment, Elphaba turned to glance at Cata before turning back to her sister. In a rare show of abandon- for Elphaba was as reserved as her older sisters, even at eleven- the second youngest princess stamped her foot, letting out a screech that could be heard all the way back at the Winter Palace, Cata was sure. "Papa! Papa!"_

 _Her scream was so loud and unreserved that Cata had to cover her ears and back away; Nessa even pressed her hands over her ears to block out her sister's screams, even as it did the trick, bringing not just Frexpar, but Doctor Dillamond, Countess Upland, the empress, and several other members of the royal household running. "Elphaba! Elphaba, what is the meaning of this?" Frexpar grabbed his daughter by her shoulders, turning her towards him and shaking her gently, and but all Elphaba did was nod to the tree overhead. Slowly, every head turned to the branches, and the princess sitting among them. Frexpar sighed. "Nessarose Frexparia."_

 _The youngest girl swallowed, and after several minutes, Frex and the sailor nannies managed to get the nine-year-old out of the tree. As Frexpar gently set Nessa on her feet, Elphaba crossed her arms over her chest in a very unladylike stance. "I told you I would get Papa if you didn't come down."_

The memory faded and Cata sighed. "As I grew older, I spent less and less time in the kitchens, as Her Majesty requested my presence more and more in her and her children's lives. I soon became the girls' companion, going everywhere with them. Her Majesty believed that it would be good for the girls to be around someone their own age, that if they had someone close to them in age, it would probably humble them, though they were already humble."

"You were like Cattery is with our children."

Cata nodded. "When the girls went to visit the Dowager in the City, I went with them. When they went out among the people of Fliaan, I followed. I was constantly with them, that the others maids often referred to me as the 'fifth' daughter."

 _"Look at who is back from her jaunt with the royal daughters."_

 _She looked up as the door shut softly behind her. Evrina, one of the other young maids, sat on her bed in the small dormitory quarters the scullery maids shared, reading a magazine. Candle looked up from her book and her place in her own bed, long dark hair down in two braids. Slowly, she removed the pins from her hair; the caramel locks tumbled down her back in waves, and she swallowed. "Did you have fun doing whatever you've been doing with your royal sisters?"_

 _Cata remained silent, moving away from the door and going to her small corner of the dormitory, placing the pins in a small tin she kept the majority of her toiletries in and then proceeding to undress, removing the beautiful dress gifted to her by Sophelia; it was worn, but still good, and the oldest princess had insisted that the young woman, only a couple years younger than her, take it, as she had nothing nice to wear, and they would be going to the opera. But the night had turned deadly, as the Fliaanian ambassador had been assassinated in the audience after the performance, in full view of the Emperor and his daughters. Oziandra had broken down in tears, and Sophelia had folded in on herself; it had been up to Cata to comfort the distraught princess, the girl she shared an age with. "How is it fair, that a lowly kitchen rat like you becomes the fifth daughter of the Emperor and his wife? Why you, Cata? Why not one of us? Each of us is just as worthy, if not more, to be favoured by the royal family than you are-"_

 _"That's enough, Evrina." Candle snapped, shutting her book. Setting it aside, she got out of bed, making her way to the girl and taking a seat beside her on the bed once Cata was in her nightgown. "Are you all right?" "The other girl sniffled, reaching up to wipe at her eyes, alarming Candle, for she never cried. "Cata? What happened?"_

 _"The... the prime minister... he was shot, after the performance..." Candle gasped, covering her mouth with her hands._

 _"What?"_

 _"What do you mean, shot?"_

 _She looked up as Evrina, despite her jealousy, and Audah, a young maid who normally kept to herself and also shared their room, joined the other girls on the bed. After a moment, Candle took her hand. "He was standing, and... during the applause, someone came up and shot him in the chest... I don't know if he died, but... but the guards got us out of the royal box immediately." She broke down then, and Candle pulled the sobbing girl into her chest, rocking back and forth to comfort her._

"No one knew that those were the first signs of unrest in our beloved Fliaan. We only knew the Prime Minister had been shot; he died three days later. We didn't know of what was yet to come." She looked up at Trism, who cupped his hands around his mug, waiting for her to continue. "You _must_ understand Your Majesty, that the Thropps were more than just my employers. They were my family; they were the only family I had after my mother died. _Please_ do not think any less of me for what I did after. Her Majesty does not, I could not bear it if you did. Everything I did after the revolution hit, I did out of loyalty to the Emperor and Empress and the royal children. I did what so many in the royal household did not after Frexpar abdicated."

Trism sighed, taking a sip of his drink, blue eyes studying her. "What, exactly, did you do that you think believe I would think less of you for, Cata?"

She swallowed, tears welling her hazel eyes. "I stayed, _Samraat_. I _stayed_ when so many in the royal household fled."


	20. Chapter 20

**Rifiuto: Non Miriena**

 **A/N:** **Written: 2006, Found: 2018.- Licia**

Trism furrowed a brow. "I don't understand. Why would you believe that I think less of you because you stayed?"

The cook swallowed thickly. "Because I stayed even after they ordered the ones who had chosen to to leave."

The young Vinkun king shook his head, thoroughly confused now. "I... don't understand, Cata."

 _"You can't do this! They have been loyal to you all these years, just as you have been loyal to them! How can loyalty mean nothing to you now?"_

 _Evrina looked up from rummaging through the princess's jewels; the slender companion to the now-former royal children was no threat. "Don't tell me you don't want to take some of their precious jewels and leave, Cata? Look at what they have! At all they have! They have so much and we have so little, and half these jewels would have all of us living comfortably for the next hundred years! Why should we not take what they squander and hoard? They are no longer royal, they are just like us now!"_

 _The teenager tried to stop her, but the maid pushed her aside, stuffing the handful of jewelry into her coat pocket. "They are still our masters, and we need to be loyal to them!"_

 _Evrina shoved her away again when she tried blocking the door. "No, Cata. They are just like us. Only they deserve what they get. And if you are too stupid to flee, then you deserve the same fate." And without another word, the girl stormed past, just one of countless members of the former royal household who turned her back on the former Fliaanian royal family._

"After Frexpar abdicated in favour of his son, and then asked his brother to take the throne, the household broke into chaos. Maids and stewards and people who had been loyal to Frexpar and his family for _years_ suddenly took what they could- jewelry, clothing, cutlery, even some of the Thropp family's precious jeweled eggs- and fled, believing the things they stole were owed to them for years of servitude."

Trism sighed at the mention of the famous Thropp eggs; each jewel encrusted egg held a surprise inside, made for various members of the family over the years, part of the missing Thropp jewels, that was slowly, very slowly, making its way back to Elphaba, whom it all rightfully belonged to. "The missing Thropp jewels." He muttered, and Cata nodded.

"I saw no value in leaving, and therefore no value in stealing from the only family I knew. And because I stayed, I was branded a traitor by others in the household. I was one of a handful of the household who chose to stay; I was the girls' companion, they were my sisters, despite our different statuses. I could not leave the only family I had."

 _She gently folded the dress she had worn to the opera that night, as well as the few other articles of clothing and the few things she possessed and placed them in the carpetbag she owned. Such meager ownings, these material possessions. She glanced at the dress; it would fetch a high price were it sold-_

 _She shook her head; no, she could not sell it. It had been a gift, it was special to her. But even so, it was still material, and not even the finest, fanciest material could outweigh the love she held for the family and the love they held for her._

 _"Cata?" She turned; Elphaba and Nessa stood in the doorway of what had once been the maids' room, now left to only her, for Audah and Evrina had fled with the others in the household, and Candle had been ordered to leave by the revolutionaries; some of the loyal in the household who had been allowed a flight from Fliaan. The childrens' tutor had and a few others had taken the young maid when they were allowed to leave by the revolutionaries and fled to the City. She still could hear Candle's heart-wrenching sobs as she wrapped Cata in her arms, for Cata had been like a little sister to the older girl. Her words rang loud in Cata's head still._

 _"Protect them. Do all you can to protect the children, Cata. Stay with them for as along as you can. Do not let any of them out of your sight, for I fear they have not long to live. I see blood in their futures- blood and bullets and smoke and fire and death. They are wrapped in Death, all of them. Protect them. Do not let them leave you behind. For if they leave you behind, they will not come back alive, none of them. They will trek down twenty-nine stairs and locked away in a chamber where Death waits to claim them. Once they step within that chamber, not one will come out. Not alive. Protect them, for they are family."_

 _Quickly, she smiled at the girls, no longer princesses, but citizens of a free Fliaan, dressed simply, in plain white blouses and long black skirts. Elphaba's hair was up, signifying her entrance into womanhood, and Nessa still wore hers down, for she was two years shy of fourteen. After a moment, she pulled her coat on and grabbed her bag, joining them. "I'm coming."_

Tears slipped down her cheeks, and gently, Trism reached over to catch them, as Elphaba had done that day. She smiled softly at him, Candle's words coming back to her through the abyss. _"Protect them. For they are family."_

Where Candle was now, or if she had survived the flight from Fliaan with the others, Cata couldn't say. But she longed to know, for Candle was as much family as Elphaba was. Of all the scullery maids who worked in the royal household, Cata had grown closest with Candle over the years, and the older girl had been one of Cata's few friends among the rest of the staff. She prayed to the Unnamed God that Candle had gotten out and survived, that she had married and started a family of her own, that she would one day return, not just to Cata but to Elphaba as well, for Elphaba had always thought highly of Candle, loved her like she loved Cata.

"When they were stripped of their titles and put under house arrest, I stayed. When the rest of the household fled, I stayed. When some members of the household who stayed were ordered to leave, and fled for the City, I stayed. When Elphaba and her parents were sent on ahead to the mansion in Satkicjni, I stayed with the other children. When they were sent to the town of Gavisk, I went with them," She choked on a sob. "But I was not allowed to go to Satkicjni with them. I was forced to stay behind. Only the loyal three were allowed, even though I begged and pleaded to go. They forced the four remaining children on to the train and held me back." Her tears began to fall harder, and she struggled to catch her breath, her memory returning to that horrible day when she was forced to remain behind.

 _"Cata! Cata!... Cata!"_

 _Nessa's screams faded as the train finally disappeared around the bend, but they would echo in her head for the rest of her life, for Cata, though at the time only sixteen, would live a long, long life, though at the time she did not know it. She sat upon the platform for another hour, sobbing uncontrollably, lower lip bleeding, mourning the loss of the only family she had ever known._

 _She had promised Candle she would protect them, and she had failed. If Candle's prediction was correct, twenty-nine steps would lead them to their fate, and they would be slaughtered, and there was nothing she could do to stop it._

 _By the time she left the platform, she had no more tears left to cry, though her heart had shattered. Upon the family's removal from the house in Gavisk, Cata was now free to go; though she had remained loyal to the family, she was now seen as no threat to the revolution. She was simply a girl, a former scullery maid to the most powerful family in all of Oz. Her carpetbag landed at her feet, and she looked up. "Go on, get out of here."_

 _The revolutionary motioned for her to start walking, and after a moment, she knelt down and picked up the bag, turning back towards the station, where the remaining members of her family had last stood before being sent away. "Come on, move it!"_

 _Slowly, she left, only for the guard to shove her out the door onto the street. She stood for several minutes, unsure of what to do or where to go, before finally, slowly, moving through the crowded streets. She had no idea what she would do or where she would go, but as she pulled her coat closer, felt Elphaba's diary dig into her side, she knew that no matter where she went, she would wait._

 _Wait and watch for any sign of her family, for surely, they would send for her once they reached Gillikin or the City or wherever they were headed. Because Candle's prediction had to be wrong, it just had to be. Her family would get out alive, and when they did, once they were settled they would send for her, and until then, she would wait for them._

 _Wait for a sign that would never come._

Trism started; he had heard the names of the two small towns, but never knew the connection to the family. Elphaba had always told him that they went straight to the governor's mansion, and that it had taken weeks, maybe even months- she could never be sure- until her siblings and the three loyal servants arrived. But now, he understood what he wife did not- Elphaba did not know about Gavisk because she had not _gone_ to Gavisk- she had been sent immediately ahead to Satkicjni with her parents- her siblings had. The missing piece of his wife's memory was not missing because it had never been there to begin with.

Cata sniffled, the pain of so many years finally released. "I waited, and waited, and waited, for any sign that they were safe and wanted me to join them."

"It never came." Trism whispered, and Cata shook her head.

"No." She broke down. " _And they never came back_."


	21. Chapter 21

**Rifiuto: Non Miriena**

 **A/N:** **Written: 2006, Found: 2018.- Licia**

"I returned to the north of Fliaan, in search of my father, only to find that he had died when I was a child. I worked in various households as a maid, saving up as much money as I could. When I heard that Her Majesty had been found, I didn't want to believe it. I had waited, for ten years, for a sign. Waited for ten years for any word from my family, that they wanted me to join them, and had gotten nothing in return. I knew then that Candle's prediction had come true- they had gone down twenty-nine steps into a chamber and met their fate."

Trism met watched her, saw as the tears dried on her cheeks, allowing her time to think. "And when Fabala was found-"

"At first, I believed her to be an imposter. That no one could have survived such fate- one unknown to all the world. And then I met her," She sniffled.

 _She sat, back rigid, on the edge of the sofa in the Dowager Empress's boudoir. Memories of her time in the Winter Palace came back like quick film cuts from a nickelodeon, and she struggled to keep the tears at bay. Eventually, a door opened and someone entered. "You will stand, and address the Kauri as Your Highness." The guard behind the young woman said, even as she held up a hand._

 _"Please, that's not-"_

 _"It's not problem, Your Highness." She dipped into a quick little curtsy before rising, her gaze wandering over the young woman. She certainly looked like the princess, the same long, black hair and dark eyes, the pale skin and slight, willowy build; so like Kauri Oziandra. She could see subtle similarities- Melena's chin, the famous Thropp eyes and hair, the Dowager's hands. The woman smiled softly; Frexpar's smile. But there was no way this woman could be the Kauri; wherever she and her family had been, they would have sent for her, and they didn't._

 _The woman made her way towards the maid, reaching out and taking her hands. "Oh, Cata." She bit her lip, gathering her thoughts. "How I've missed you so!"_

 _The maid slowly pulled away, shaking her head. "You are not the Kauri. You look like her, but you are not her."_

 _The woman swallowed thickly. "You truly think so little of me, Cata? You stayed with my family even after we were stripped of everything. When everyone else left, you stayed."_

 _"You could have learned that from anyone-"_

 _She shook her head. "When Papa, Mama and I left for Stakicjni, I gave you my diary, asked you to keep it safe. You told me to be brave, for my family. They would not let you come, and so you stayed with my siblings and the rest of the household." She started, surprised the woman knew such an intimate detail. The woman had tears in her eyes, tears that slipped down her cheeks. "They massacred them, Cata. I don't know how I got out, but they massacred my brother and my sisters, and Mama and Papa, and Doctor Dillamond and..." She broke down then, reaching out to take the other woman's hands, for she could tell that the maid still didn't believe her. "The dress Elia gave you? The one you wore to the opera the night the prime minister was assassinated, say you still have it? Please?"_

 _The dress changed her mind completely. For no one, not a single soul, knew of the dress the oldest Kauri had given her. And for this girl, this woman, to know of it-_

 _"Elphaba Frexparia?" It was more question than declaration, more uncertainty than certainty, but even so, she could tell that what the woman spoke of was true. And now that she looked at her closer, she could see the delicate diamond tattoos by her dark eyes. That simple response caused the woman to throw her arms around the maid, burying her face in the woman's shoulder._

 _"Oh Cata! Cata, I've missed you so!"_

 _They clung to each other, finally reunited after all these years, the pain of their mutual loss catching up and taking hold. Though a long awaited reunion, it was bittersweet._

"I joined the royal household not long after, worked my way up to cook." She shrugged, tears slipping down her cheeks. "I know nothing of where the rest of my family is, _Samraat_ , but I at least have one member of my family returned to me." Silence settled between them for several minutes, before she once again spoke up. "I will pack my things and leave the household by morning, if you feel it's best, _Samraat_."

Trism's blue gaze darted up, and he furrowed a brow. " _Why,_ Cata? Why could you possibly think that I would want you to leave?"

She shrugged, unsure of what to say. "I just... I thought, that once you heard the whole..."

"You thought that my finding out your true connection to my wife would be enough to want to drive you from our household?" He shook his head, slightly disgusted. "Cata, I want you to go nowhere. You belong here, just as I do, just as my wife does. You have shown insurmountable loyalty to us over these last few years, just as you did to Fabala's family before, during and after the revolution. You are just as much a member of not only this household, but this family as Cattery is. You are going nowhere. You are going to stay and help my wife and I to raise our children." He reached over, taking her hand.

* * *

 _"Be brave, Kauri. You must be brave, for your brother and sisters and parents."_

 _"And you, Cata."_

Her eyes snapped open, and slowly, she lifted her head. Trism's side of the bed was empty; the house was quiet. She sat up slowly, to see darkness still outside, and carefully, got to her feet. Her body ached, her mind was fuzzy, and her vision blurry from sleep. A quick check of the clock told her that it was near two a.m. Slowly, very slowly, she slipped out of the room, and made her way down the stairs, being careful not to wake the other occupants of the house. Standing in the darkness of the foyer, she let her body adjust to being out of bed again. It was then that she heard voices, coming from the kitchens, and after a moment, slowly made her way towards them, stopping in the doorway in time to catch the last of the conversation.

"You're family, Cata. You're part of our family."


	22. Chapter 22

**Rifiuto: Non Miriena**

 **A** **/N:** **Written: 2006. Found: 2018.- Licia**

"What is going on?"

At the sound of her voice, Cata immediately rose. "Your Majesty." Her gaze flit over Elphaba; the young woman looked as though Death itself had walked over her grave. Dark eyes darted back and forth between Cata and Trism, to the coffee cups on the table and back. Trism stood, hurrying to his wife, an arm slipping around her waist when he got close enough.

"Fabala, what are you doing out of bed? You need to stay down-"

"You weren't there." Elphaba whispered, gaze going back to Cata. She studied the woman, as though seeing her for the first time, before a small smile tugged at her lips, and she pulled away from her husband, hurrying to the cook. _"Oh, Cata!"_ Her arms went around the cook, who hugged her in response. She glanced at Trism, who sighed in relief at the moment of normalcy.

 _"What over my brother and sisters, Cata."_

Trism's heart fell. Just because his wife had gotten some much needed sleep, didn't meant she was out of the woods yet. Clearly the stress Dillamond spoke of still held his wife in its grip, though not as tightly as before. Slowly, Cata pulled away, taking the younger woman's hands in hers. She glanced at Trism briefly, before turning her gaze back to Elphaba. "I will, _Kauri_. I promise."

"I'm not a _Kauri_ anymore, Cata." Elphaba replied, shaking her head. Cata's gaze filled with concern, and she reached up, gently brushing a wayward strand off Elphaba's cheek.

"You will _always_ be a _Kauri,_ no matter your station in life."

Elphaba nodded, lowering her gaze before letting out a gasp and lifting her head. " _My diary! Cata, please, take it-_ "

" _Shh, shh, Kaur_ i." The cook reached up, gently taking the young woman's face in her hands. She cradled Elphaba like a child, whispering to calm her. "I'll keep it safe, Kauri. I promise. And when you and your family reach wherever you are going, send for me, and I will bring it."

A small smile tugged at the corners of Elphaba's mouth, and she wrapped her arms around Cata again. Tears filled Cata's eyes, as she once more spoke the promise she had not kept, for the family had never called for her, never sent a sign, because they had never come back-

Not even Elphaba, the beloved middle daughter, who had been squirreled away from the final resting place of her family and dumped in a field in Munchkinland with no memory. Elphaba, who had spent ten years in a Munchkinland orphanage, under the protective, watchful eye of Mistress Morrible, having no idea who she was or how she'd ended up in Munchkinland. But when she had returned, she'd sought Cata out immediately.

Then, gently, she walked the girl back, so that she had to take a seat at the table, beside her husband. Without a word, she poured a cup for Elphaba and set it in front of her as Trism took a seat beside his wife. He slid his arm around her waist, pulling her close; Elphaba turned to him, and he smiled softly at her. Her brow furrowed briefly, before recognition seemed to hit. " _Trism_."

He nodded, taking a sip of his drink. "I'm right here, love. I won't leave you." Gently, he kissed her temple, tugging her closer until her hips slid against his. She sighed, settling against him, content in the moment. Cata watched the couple, relieved to see her mistress so calm, if even for the briefest of moments. A moment passed, before Trism kissed her softly on the lips, murmuring something that set Cata's heart racing. "I love you so much. So, so much, my black pearl."

 _She stopped, just outside the Kauri's room, a bucket of warm water in her grasp and fresh towels in her arms. Melena had requested that the maids help Elphaba, still recovering from measles, into a warm bath, to help bring encourage sweating to release the toxins and relax her. It was Cata's job, as the girls' companion, to keep the young princess company-_

 _As she reached for the handle of the door, she stopped, a voice causing her pause. Slightly gruff and yet lilting at the same time, it sent shivers down the young maid's spine, for she knew that voice, and the person attached to it._

 _"You shall be better soon."_

 _Yackle._

 _The horrid mystic had somehow managed to weasel their way into the royal family's good graces, entrancing Melena with the promise that they could heal the young heir, Shell, from his bouts of illness. Were they here to also heal the young Kauri? Had Her Majesty really-_

 _"Can you not heal me like you heal Shell?"_

 _Cata covered her mouth with her hand to stifle her gasp, being careful of the bucket in her grasp. On the other side of the door, Yackle chuckled. "Unfortunately, my powers have been greatly reduced because I have healed your brother. But you will be fine in a week's time, back to yourself, my little black pearl."_ _There was silence on the other side, before the door finally opened, and Cata stepped back._

 _She glanced up at the mystic, not allowing her gaze to linger for too long, for she could not bear the sight. From what she could gather, of the rumors flying within the household, Yackle was neither male nor female, but possibly something in between. All Cata knew for sure was that Yackle had the ear of her mistress, the hands of the children, and the disgust of the rest of the Fliaanian court, as well as several courts outside of Fliaan. A moment passed, before the mystic moved past, and Cata wrinkled her nose at the smell; once gone, she hurried into the room, fearing what she'd find, but she only found Elphaba sitting up in bed, long black hair down around her shoulders. In no way did the sight lessen the twisting of her stomach, but it did relieve her to find the girl waiting patiently for her. She set the towels on the end of the bed and then made her way into the bathroom, dumping the water into the bath before returning. Helping Elphaba up, she took her into the bathroom and quickly helped her to undress, subtly checking her for any mysterious marks or bruises, but found nothing. She helped the girl into the water, pulling up a stool to sit beside her as she dipped a cloth into the water and wrung it out over the girl's shoulders. "Come, Kauri. A warm bath will be just what you need."_

The memory faded with the sands of time, and Cata found herself back in the kitchens at Colwen Grounds, watching Trism brush a soft kiss to his wife's temple.

"Cata? Cata, are you okay?"

She blinked, to find the royal couple watching her with concern in both their eyes; Trism's lips rested against Elphaba's forehead, and she reached out for the cook, the edges of her lips tugging into a slight frown. "Cata? Are you alright?"

A moment passed, before she reached out, taking Elphaba's hand and squeezing as Trism gently tugged his wife closer, melding her body to his, worried gaze never leaving the cook. The older woman sighed, realizing that though the memory had been strong, it was no longer reality, for Yackle was dead, and Trism held Elphaba tenderly in his grasp, realizing the fragility of his wife. The love the young king held for his queen now, far outweighed the vile intentions the mystic had once had in regards to the royal children, and for that, she was eternally grateful to the young Vinkun royal. Trism kept her safe when Cata could not. She would always be indebted to the former prince, for however long she lived. A small smile tugged at her lips, and she squeezed Elphaba's hand again.

"I'm okay, Your Majesty. Just... got caught up in a memory, is all."


	23. Chapter 23

**Rifiuto: Non Miriena**

 **A** **/N:** **Written: 2006. Found: 2018. - Licia**

"Get some sleep, Cata. You need it. I can watch over her."

The cook didn't respond; she simply watched as Trism, arm still around his wife's waist, walked Elphaba back up the stairs to their room. Elphaba, however, stopped them, to turn back. "Goodnight, Cata." She waved, and the cook waved back, knowing the young empress was caught in a memory. Trism nodded to the older woman, before the two young royals continued down the hall. She heard their bedroom door click, followed by the soft locking of their door, and returned to the kitchen, knowing that Elphaba was in Trism's safe hands.

Making sure everything was put away, she then switched off the light and made her way up the stairs to the third floor, where the staff's quarters were. Moving down the hall, she slipped quietly into her room and shut the door softly behind her. Unlike most of the staff, who sometimes shared two to a room- unless they had families, and then they lived not far from the palace- Cata had a small room to call her own. When Elphaba had shown her the palace, she'd simply asked for a room; the size didn't matter, she just wanted a room. Having no family to live with- for Cata had not married nor had children of her own- she had not seen the benefit of having children for herself, when she was content to look after Trism and Elphaba's children. Though she had loved children growing up, and had often wished for a family of her own, Cata had discovered over time that marriage and a family just wasn't in the cards for her.

She wasn't too proud to admit that watching what the heir to the Thropp dynasty had gone through in his ten short years had been part of her decision. And she just realized, over time, that perhaps children weren't the best option for her. So when Elphaba and Trism had first gotten pregnant, back in the late summer of twenty-eight, Cata had been thrilled, bursting into tears when Elphaba had told her the news. And she had mourned just as the rest of the household had when the young empress had miscarried her child.

Slowly, the cook began to undress, slowly undoing her hair from the twist she kept it in when working, before changing for bed and taking a seat on the edge. She thought back to the conversation with Trism- the prince hadn't looked at her in any way other than a family member; he'd treated her with respect, just as Elphaba and the rest of the royal family did. And, perhaps, a bit more understanding as to why she was so protective of the young empress.

 _"You have witnessed far too much, Cata- the wealth and glamour the court reveled in, the simplicity Elphaba and her family tried so hard to live within, the horrendous rumors that swirled around Yackle, the empress and her daughters, the plot to assassinate the mystic, the abdication of the emperor, the house arrest of the family, the flight of the Thropps, but being unable to follow... you witnessed so much, no wonder you're as protective of my wife as you are. You watched her grow up, watched her father step down, watched her family struggle to survive... and then going ten years without knowing where they were or if any of them were dead or alive... but you don't need to worry anymore, Cata. Fabala's alive and, other than this small bump in the road, she's fine and she's thriving. Just like our family is. You're not going anywhere, Cata. You're staying here, because you're family."_

Tears sprang to her eyes; that Trism thought so highly of her tugged at her heart, and she promised herself that she would do all she could to prove herself worthy of that high praise. After a moment, she stood, going to the closet and opening it. Tucked away in the bottom was a small chest, which she opened; it held her most prized possessions- the dress Sophelia Frexparia had given her to wear to the opera that night, a pearl and emerald encrusted hair comb the empress had given her for her twelfth birthday, a couple drawings done by Nessarose Frexparia and Shell Frexparevich for her, a few of the letters Elphaba had sent to her on the journey from the Winter Palace, a small photo album the girls had given her, filled of photographs of her with the family-

Her breath caught, gaze lighting on the coat folded on the bottom. Slowly, she lifted it out, burying her nose in the fabric; it was the coat she'd worn on the train platform that day; by then, Elphaba was gone with her parents to the Govenor's mansion, and the rest of the family to follow. Even after all these years, it _still_ smelled of that dreary Fliannian winter of nineteen-eighteen- leftover snow turned to slush, the stench of deepening malnutrition, a faint breath of depression and just a hint of excitement- when her family had been taken away, and she, the lowly scullery maid, was forced to stay beneath the other familiar scents of that year so long ago, was another, faint, but very, very familiar. She returned her nose to the fabric, closing her eyes briefly.

 _"Cata, you cannot go running about like that, you'll catch your death of cold." She watched, as the once great and powerful Emperor of all Fliaan slowly removed his coat. Her gaze lit on the thick, heavy black military-style coat, and she stepped back. Despite them now being of common social standing, the sixteen-year-old still felt that silent loyalty to her family, to always be a step below them in rank, stripped of their titles or no. "Here."_

 _She quickly shook her head. "Oh, I couldn't Your Majesty-"_

 _Frexpar chuckled. "I am no longer the rule of Fliaan, Cata. There is no need for such a title anymore." She glanced from the coat to the man and back. Without a word, he made his way towards her, helping her into it and slipping it over her shoulders. It was big on her, but that was because Frexpar was taller than her, slightly stocky, though no less handsome than any of the young soldiers in the Fliaanian army Elphaba used to fawn over. "There, now you'll be warm."_

 _She met his gaze over her shoulder; his dark eyes held nothing but warmth and tenderness for the young girl who had been his children's constant companion these last few years. "I'll give it back-"_

 _But he gently squeezed her shoulders. "No. You'll need a nice warm coat for wherever we are going. It's yours."_

 _Tears began to prick her eyes. "Thank you, Your Majesty."_

 _Frexpar ignored her slip up, leaning down and kissing the young maid gently on the forehead, as Cata had seen him do to his five children so many times before. She had always wondered what it would be like to receive a father's love like the children did, and secretly, in her deepest heart of hearts, admitted that perhaps she was a little bit jealous of the royal children, and their great luck of having been born in to, not necessarily wealth and royalty, but such a loving family. Her eyes closed on instinct, and she held her breath, remembering this feeling and holding onto it. If this was what a father's love felt like, she never wanted it to end._

 _"Neart agus síocháin, mo iníon grá." When she opened her eyes, it was to the former emperor gently thumbing her chin, as he often did to his three youngest children. She felt Elphaba slip an arm through hers, barely hearing the former princess's words._

 _"I told you we were sisters."_

Her gaze snapped open, and she slowly lifted her head; she was back in her room in Colwen Grounds. The memory faded like the smoke from a candle, and after a moment, she pulled it on, Frexpar's words coming back to her as the faintness of his scent enveloped her, just one in the hundreds of scents attached to that coat from that long ago day. _"Neart agus síocháin, mo iníon grá."_

She knew the term; it was old Fliaanian, only used to express deep love for a family member or friend, often in times of hardship.

 _Strength and peace, my loved daughter. Strength and peace._

To think, that in those darkest of days, Frex had considered her to be like one of his children... all these years later, it touched her deeply. She wrapped her arms around herself, before deciding she should take the coat off and return it to the chest. As she lowered her arms and moved to open the closet. The side of the coat banged against her hip, and she stopped. For the briefest of moments, confusion crossed her mind, before she shook it away and reached to open the chest. the side of the coat once more banged against her hip, and this time, she turned her attention to it. Slipping a hand into the pocket, she felt nothing inside, until she hit the back of the pocket. Something knocked against her fingers. Quickly grabbing a simple ripper from her sewing kit, she removed the coat, laying it in her lap once she'd sat back on the bed and carefully ripping into what looked like a sewn seam. After several minutes, the material gently pulled back, and she gasped.

Slowly, carefully, she pulled out a book. bound in lilac purple material, the pages gold edged, about the size of one of the hardbound novels on the shelves in the study. Upon the cover, were the numbers,

 _1918_

With shaking fingers, she slowly parted the cover from the first page, gaze lighting on familiar, careful cursive. A soft, tear-filled gasp escaped her throat as she read the name she knew so well.

 _Elphaba Frexparia Thropp_


End file.
